


Coming Home

by Motherof4dragons



Series: Coming Home [1]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Best Friends, Drama, Drama & Romance, Future Fic, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2019-11-06 14:38:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17941613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Motherof4dragons/pseuds/Motherof4dragons
Summary: Since the second they announced April's departure from the show, I've been imagining how to bring her back.  When she left a married woman, it kicked the fantasies up into over drive.  This will be Japril Endgame.  This is my story about how Trauma Surgeon Wonder Woman April Kepner rejoins the crew at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital.3/20/19  UPDATE -  I was unhappy with things, probably because I've done most of my posting in the wee hours of the morning.  So I've gone back thru the entire story and added things where I felt it was needed.  Some chapters just have simple editing and grammar updates, but almost every chapter has more story added, whether its just a few sentences or whole paragraphs.  Just to better help the flow and direction of the story.  One of the pitfalls of posting as you go instead of waiting until the end is that as you get further into the story, you see things that need changed in the beginning.





	1. Mass Casualty Event

**April returns**

May 2020

Jackson hears his pager go off when he’s in the middle of discussing today’s surgery with his patient and her family.

MASS SHOOTING ETA 15 minutes out.

 I turn back to my patient and her family and put an end to our pre-op conversations.

“Excuse me guys, I’m so sorry. It looks like we may have to put todays surgery on hold, there’s been an emergency. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” I pat my patient on her back, shake her husband’s hand and leave the room.

He heads out of the patient’s room and to the nurses station where he puts the tablet back on the charging station then heads to the surgery board where he knows everybody will be meeting. Owen, though not technically head of trauma anymore, is up front leading the charge.

“Ok people, we have a mass casualty event. Shooting at the mall. We can expect the majority of the victims to come to us. We don’t have an estimate yet as to how many that may be, but it sounds like he got a lot of rounds off before he was taken down by a civilian. The ambulances are waiting on the all clear to start scooping them up. I want OR’s 1-4 on constant rotation. Don’t take the time to make it pretty people, get in and get out. All elective and non-emergent surgeries have been cancelled and the patients that can be are being discharged. Move all non-critical ER patients to the clinic. The blood bank is sending up all available blood. I want every available surgeon in the pit in 5. Get a move on it.”

Jackson takes the time to swing by his locker to hang his coat up then heads to the pit.

\--

“Jackson, have you talked to April today?” Owen stops and sticks his head into the trauma room Jackson is just finishing up in. Superficial injuries, but she cut herself pretty bad on something running away from the shooting, and had an eight inch laceration that required stitched. Normally I would have a resident or intern do it, but it’s in a pretty visible spot, and I wanted it done right.

“No, why?”

“Because several of the victims are saying they were triaged on scene by someone who says they were a dr.”

“So?”

“A redheaded female Dr.”

We’ve gotten the first wave of ambulances emptied and into the pit. I did notice that some patients have the trauma triage color codes written on their bodies, but I just assumed that they didn’t have the tags at the scene.

The chances of that being April are pretty small, but I snap off my gloves and pull my phone out of my pocket anyways. We just went to church together with Harriet this past weekend. She didn’t mention going to the mall this week, but then why would she. We may share a daughter, and since her accident, we’re back to being best friends, but long gone are the days where I got daily reports of her plans and movements.

After 4 rings it goes to her voicemail. “Hey April. It’s me. Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but there was a shooting at the mall, I’m sure you’ll have heard about it by the time you get this, And I bet you’ll get a kick out of this but some of the patients are saying they were triaged by a redheaded dr. So now I’m worried about you. Call me back. Love ya.”

The love ya kind of slips out, but it’s too late to take it back, and besides, she’s the mother of my children and my person. I do love her, and the thought of her at that mall makes my heart speed up a little. I decide to shoot her a text too.

Jackson: Hey. Mass shooting at the mall. Check in with me please.

I debate sending a text to Matthew, but I think April said he’s out of town, so I put my phone back in my pocket and try to shake it off, then head back into the fray.

\--

“Next wave coming in guys!”

I’m in the middle of assessing a middle aged man with a gunshot wound to the thigh, through and through. Whoever is on the scene knows what they were doing, that’s for sure. The patient’s own belt is wrapped around his upper leg to stem the blood loss and the words “yellow tag” were written in blue ink across his forearm. He told a more exaggerated story of the redheaded goddess running into the middle of the bloodshed single handedly saving every person she touched.  The guy is obviously in love.  It’s one of the more extreme versions of the story he’s heard. He’s heard variations of the same thing from multiple sources over the last hour.  The more they hear, the more I’m afraid it may really be April.  She hasn’t replied back to my messages yet.

And then he hears her.

“22 yr old female, 3 gun shot wounds to the right arm, hip and thigh. Approx. 2 liters blood loss in the field. 2 large bore ivs placed in route. Her driver’s license states she’s o+ so let’s get a trauma panel, type and cross match and get blood hung. We also gave 4 of morphine. She’s passed out but she’s going to hurt like a bitch when she comes to. I need ortho in here stat, her pelvis is probably shattered. Get me x-rays and then let’s get her up to an OR. And someone find me a pair of scrubs please.”

April’s voice is authoritative and electric. The sound of it issuing out commands flashes me back to years before. The ER is her domain, even if she hasn’t stepped foot in it for almost 2 years. I can’t see her, but I can see the ER’s response to her. Residents and nurses that know her are scattering in different directions to obey her orders. The interns are watching her in awe, this stranger who can waltz in and command everyone’s immediate obedience. She yells out louder than the other orders, “also someone find Karev to give me privileges!” I look up and meet Meredith’s eyes to see my grin echoed on her face. “Kepner’s back” she says and snaps her gloves off to go help April.

Mer takes two steps out of the trauma room and freezes. “Shit” she says, then even quieter, “Jackson.”

I move to where she is standing, and feel the grin melt off my face and my blood run cold. April is in jeans and what may have once been a lighter colored t shirt. Her red hair is piled on her head in a messy bun with hair streaming down around her face. And April is covered head to foot in blood. While most of it probably isn’t hers, some of it obviously is. She has a bandage wrapped haphazardly around her left upper arm, and there is a small trickle of blood still dripping down off her elbow. She’s wearing gloves, but it’s apparent from the distorted color of them that there is just as much blood inside the gloves as outside.  Seeing the blood all over her body, I feel all the blood drain completely out of mine.

“April, oh my god April were you shot?”

She looks down at her arm like she’d forgotten about it and shrugs, hands still on the patient.

“It was just a flesh wound. Jackson, can you call the nanny and have her pick up Harriet today, have them go back to your house. Matthew and Ruby are going to be at his parents’ house for the rest of the week still. I told the paramedics on scene to send all non-critical to Seattle Pres so that we could concentrate on the critical. The first paramedics to arrive tried to give me push back until Warren showed up, then they let me control the scene. Where’s my ortho consult?”

I’m standing there looking at her like an idiot.  I hear her speaking, but for some reason none of it is computing in my mind.  She’s just so casual, like this is an every day occurrence.   Wait a minute? Warren knew she was there and didn’t bother to give us a heads up? As soon as I see him I’m going to kick his ass.

The sight of a nurse coming in with a set of dark blue scrubs finally spurs me into motion, and I take them from her.

“Mer, take over the patient. April, come on, let’s get you stitched up.”

“Just throw some antiseptic on it and I’ll worry about it later.” The portable x-ray is in here now and she steps back while pictures are taken.

“APRIL!”  I yell it out into the room, voice laced with fear and anger and frustration and feel half the department stop and look at me.

When she finally turns to face me head on, her shoulders fall and her face softens. I don’t know what she sees on my face, but it makes her acquiesce to my request. She nods sharply and starts to remove her gloves, tossing them onto the floor with the rest of the trash.

Alex comes into the trauma room grinning, arms crossed over his chest, light on his feet despite the situation. “You know Kepner, if you missed us that much all you had to do was call. There was no need to get yourself shot.”

April returns his grin ear to ear. “You know me Karev, I like the drama. I’ll meet you guys upstairs, which OR?”

Karev’s eyes flick to me momentarily and I read the concern in them with years of practice. I nod, not giving my ok but acknowledging that I’ll take care of her.

“OR 4 should be ready for turnover in 20. I expect you clean and stitched before you enter my scrub room Kepner.”

“Sheesh Karev, the power’s gone to your head hasn’t it? Fine. Have ortho stabilize her before she goes up.”

We start to walk out of the trauma bays towards the elevator when we hear Karev call out “good to have to you back Kepner.”

\--

We head into the attending lounge and I walk straight thru to the bathing area to turn on the shower. I put the scrubs on the counter and go back out into the locker area to find some soap and shampoo for her. She’s taking off her tennis shoes and examines them critically before tossing them into the corner. Her t-shirt comes off and goes straight into the trash. She has her hands on her jeans and is halfway thru pulling down the zipper when she looks at me. It takes her cocking her eyebrow at me before I realize I’m staring at her half naked. God she’s beautiful. But that’s not what I’m staring at, not really.

I can see the faint outlines of her chest tube scars across her chest, upraised and evident with the goo coating her. And I see the jagged c section scar low under her belly button above her panty line. The dried blood all over her torso is horrifying. And I think, this is the third time she’s almost been taken from me. The thought makes me sick.

I put the bottles I took out if Amelia’s locker into the shower stall, then turn and pull her towards me. I embrace her harder then I mean to, and seeing as she’s married to another man, and half naked, it’s completely inappropriate, but I can’t let her go.  I don’t think I can ever let her go again.

“Jackson, it’s alright Jackson. I’m alright.”  She squeezes me back tight, then runs her hands soothingly over my back and I bury my nose in her hair. Even under all of the blood I can still smell her flowery conditioner.

When i feel myself on the verge of cracking, I let her go and quickly wipe the moisture from my eyes. “You shower, I’m going to go get a suture kit. We have about 15 minutes before they’ll be ready for you. I’m assuming you’re wanting to operate? You haven’t been in a surgery suite in a while.”

“I’ve kept all my certifications up to date and done more continuing education credits than I’m required to, due to boredom mainly.  I still do ride alongs.  I think I proved today my trauma skills are still sharp. You need to change your scubs too, you’re covered in blood now.” I look at myself and see that she’s right. Her blood covered imprint is now on my shirt.

I decide to ignore the boredom statement, but push it into the back of my mind to consider later. “Ok. I’ll be right back.” I pull her to me one more time and kiss her forehead, blood and all, then leave the bathing area and shut the door behind me. I lean against the door after I shut it and try to gather my thoughts.  April, my April, was shot.  Never before have I been so happy we got Harriet into that fancy preschool. I don’t know what I would have done if they had both been there. The thought makes my knees weak. But it’s lucky for another reason too. There are a lot of people alive right now because April was in that mall today. If Hattie had been with her she would have been protecting her instead of helping all those people. She’s a hero.  

Get yourself together Avery. Scrubbing my hands vigorously over my head, I push off from the door and head out in search of a suture kit. When I see a supply cart, I grab supplies to draw some blood too. With that much blood mixing over her we’d better do some blood tests at well. Rapid HIV, blood counts, std’s, pregnancy, the works.  Oh god.  The thought of April pregnant makes me feel sick.  I let myself into the drug closet and grab the lidocaine and some pain killers, then head back into the lounge and place it all on the table. I’m getting everything set up with a bottle of water on the table for her when she comes back out of the shower.

To my surprise, she has the scrub bottoms on but not the scrub top. She has the towel wrapped around her torso, but they aren’t really made to wrap all the way around a woman’s curves, so there’s a damp line of bare skin showing from her shoulder to where the scrubs start low on her hip. She’s run her hair through the towel, and it is hanging damp down her back, wavy from the water. It’s darker that way, and I’m transported to a time when she would leave the bathroom like that, towel dried and damp, and climb naked into the bed we shared.

I have no idea what has gotten into me all of a sudden, and luckily she doesn’t seem to notice as she wanders over to the lockers. I should not be thinking of April this way. The only excuse I have is the stress and hormones pushing thru my system at the thought of her being hurt at that mall.

“I had to toss my bra, I couldn’t put that thing back on again, and I didn’t want to put the scrub top on until you stitched me up in case I got blood on it too. As you can see I kept the bandage on so it’s probably still pretty gnarly under there. Meredith used to keep a full change of clothes in her locker. Do you think she still does?” She pops the door open and bends down to the bag in the bottom. “Aha” she says, so I assume she found what she was looking for. “Don’t peek” she says, then drops the towel after ahe moves so that her back is facing the door. She puts the bra on upside down and backwards in the way that women do, and begins to rotate it to the front. I do the complete opposite of not peeking and stare at her as I have been since she walked into the ER this morning until I feel my cock start to twitch, then I quickly avert my eyes.

When she comes and sits at the table with me, I find that looking at her with Mer’s bra on is worse than seeing her bare back and sides. Whereas April always favored bras with the firm cups, this bra is low and lacy, and I can see the outline of her nipples thru the thin fabric.

Clearing my throat, I hand her the Tylenol and the water bottle and wrap the band around her good arm to draw her blood.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?”

”No.  Definitely not.”  I ignore the wave of relief that passes through me at her firm assurance.  I tell myself it’s just because I hate the thought of her endangering an unbirn child with her stunt today and not because I hate the idea of her having another mans baby.

”I’m going to test for everything ok?”  Her only response is a nod.

That done, I turn her to the side so that I have access to her bad arm as it rests on the table.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Well really, this is all your fault.”

“MY fault?! How so?”

“Well, you know Hattie starts dance class next week. And I was going to go to payless to get her tap and ballet shoes, and then I heard your voice in my head going ‘really April, payless?’ So I went to that specialty store in the mall that costs 4 times as much for the exact same thing.”

I scoff at her, then tell her “This is going to burn” As I unwrap her arm.  She was right about it being gnarly. She must have a pain tolerance thru the roof, because the wound is ugly and jagged, and deeper than I feel comfortable with. It’s more a thru and thru than a graze in my opinion, but there doesn’t appear to be any muscle compromise, and she’s obviously been using it ok. I grab the antiseptic to clean in. “Go On.” Her face pinches tight for a minute, but whether it’s from the pain or the story I don’t know.

“I was in line to pay when it started. I heard the first shot and froze, unsure about what I was hearing, but then the next started rapid and close together and there was no doubt. I dropped my bag onto the register counter and told the clerk to go hide in the back room. She told me to come with her, but I knew there’d be injured. I’m a war trained trauma surgeon so…” She trails off and shrugs again, then winces. With the adrenalin fading I bet she’s starting to feel it more now.

“I grabbed a sharpie I saw on the counter, and started heading towards where everyone was leaving. He started in the food court I think. It’s a weekday, so it’s not as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough. I was able to hug the wall and inch towards where it was coming from. There were two civilians, ex-military from the look of them, doing the same thing. They told me to scram, but I told them I was an army surgeon, and if there were wounded I was going to help. I couldn’t get too close to the action for fear of being shot myself, but when he started strolling, he was just walking as calm as could be Jackson, like he didn’t have a care in the world, going the opposite direction from us, I started darting in and pulling wounded to the side, triaging as I went. I used the marker to tag them as I felt appropriate, did what I could to stop the bleeding or ease the patient with what little I had, which was nothing, and went on to the next one. Ike and Mike we’ll call them, split, one on either side of the corridor, so when he dropped both guns to grab another pair they went at him from both sides. That’s when I got hit. He got a spray off as he was being brought down and I’d gotten too close pulling a victim with an abdominal wound to safety. They broke his arm. Bad.”

“Good.” Somehow I managed to keep my hands steady through her story despite my heart rate racing and my system flooding with adrenalin. So she didn’t just happen to be close to the shooting. She ran into it. The fucking mother of my children ran towards gunfire with no regard for her, her children or anyone who cares about her. I close my eyes and take a hissing breath in through my nose, trying to calm my raging emotions.  I place my hands flat on the table for a moment to try to center myself.  I can feel her watching me.

“Here comes the stitching.” I’m going to kill her with my bare hands. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my entire life, and lord knows April’s done a lot to piss me off over the years. Her phone rings, and she picks it up and hits ignore. 20 seconds later it’s ringing again. Releasing a big sigh, she answers it this time. Her voice is overly perky and it takes me off guard for a minute, helping to calm my raw nerves.

“Yea I heard about that. Crazy huh? No no, of course we’re ok. I was thinking about going to the hospital though and seeing if they need any help.” There’s a lull in her side of the conversation here, and I can tell by the tightening of her posture that whatever being said is making her less than happy. “Of course, you’re right, they don’t need me. Yea. Ok. You too.” She puts her phone down and turns her face to me giving me a half smile.

“I’ve been contemplating coming back to the hospital, have I told you that?” Her statement takes me by surprise. She hasn’t given me any indication that she was anything less than satisfied with her work at the clinic.  I wonder if she’s told anyone else this?

“Matthew, he doesn’t want me to. If I told him about all, this” and here she uses her free hand and wiggles it around in the air, indicating everything and nothing at once “He’d probably think I arranged the shooting on purpose.”

“April, he’s your husband. Don’t you think he’d want to know you’ve been hurt?”

“I’ll tell him later tonight. It’s not a big deal, and you took care of me.”  She says it with surety and confidence and fixes me with a sweet smile.  I’ll always take care of her. “Are we almost done?” She twists sideways to try to get a look at the wound. I could have done it a lot quicker, but I’m tired of seeing scars all over her body. So I took my time, and hopefully in a few months we’ll have only the faintest memory that this ever happened. I put some gauze over it, then a bandage over that, when wrap some of the double sided sticky wrap over top of all of that. The need to continue to touch her, to reassure myself that she is in fact ok is overwhelming, so I push her hair behind her ears and cup her face in my hand. Instead of pulling away, she leans into it, putting one of her hands over mine and closing her eyes, breathing in deep.  We stay that way for a few moments.  Breathing and ensuring eachother of our presence.  But times a ticking and I’m sure they’ve started without her.

“Come oh trauma goddess, let’s get you to the OR.” I pull her to her feet, watch her put her top on, and then follow her out of the room


	2. I am a surgeon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day off the mass shooting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're keeping this story as cannon as can be, excluding the fact that I've jumped 16 months in the time line. Everything that happens in the story between now and then I've tried to keep as pure to the story as possible and go where I think the official Grey's writers are leading.
> 
> I've kept Karev as chief however because with Baileys health and OCD, I really feel like she would/should be concentrating on her research and surgery, and leave the day to day stress of running the hospital to someone else. In my imagination, she comes back for 6 months or so, decides she liked it better in her lab in a non OCD meltdown capacity, and the board officially elects Karev as full time chief.

Jackson –

It’s calmed down some now and I’m in an OR with a woman who was shot in the throat.  She got incredibly lucky, even more so that April was there.  April used the woman’s own shirt to pack the wound and her purse strap to secure it in place.  She lost a lot of blood, but thanks to April’s quick actions she’s going to pull through.

I look up as the doors slid open and in comes Maggie, mask covering her face.

“Oh my god Jackson I just heard April was at the shooting.  How is she? Where is she? Is there anything I can do?”

“Oh yea.  She’s in OR 4.”

“Jackson are you ok?  What can I do?  Do you need me to pick up Harriet?  Where’s Matthew, I didn’t see him in the waiting room.”

“No Maggie, She’s _in_ OR 4, as in she’s the one doing the operating.  The Dr in the field who was doing all the writing on the patients?  That was her.”

“What?  But I thought she’d been shot?”  The reminder makes my anger spike, but I tamp it back down.

“Well, yea, she was.  In the arm.  But it was just a flesh wound.” Of a sort I think to myself.  April is sadly mistaken if she thinks we’re done with that conversation.

“Yup.  She came in covered in blood this morning, pushing a gurney and shouting orders like nothing had changed.  She didn’t even ask for an ok to operate, just told Karev she’d meet him upstairs.”  I can’t help the smile that comes to my face.  “It was kinda badass.”  And ignoring the fact that she’s my April and could have died, it really was.

“Huh.  April’s back in surgery.  Well ok then.  Are you ok with that?”

I’m taken aback by the question.  Why wouldn’t I be?  It’s not like she’s working here full time again.  And even if she was, she’s a great surgeon.  She’s a wonderful asset to this hospital.  My mother would be pleased at any rate.

“Of course, I’m great.  Going to kill her for getting shot, but I’m good otherwise.”

She gives me a searching look, then nods her head.  “Ok then, come and find me when you’re done here.”

 

Next to enter the OR is Karev. 

“Avery, you almost done here?”

“Yea, we were just getting ready to close.  What’s up?”

“There’s two men here looking for Kepner.”

“What?  Who are they?”

“I don’t know.  The reception desk up front just called me.  They didn’t know what to tell them since she doesn’t actually work here.”

“Go see them.  Bring one of the cops with you.  I’m sure there’s still tons of them swarming around the place.  I’ll be there in 10.”

Looking for April?  Was there another shooter that we didn’t know about?  It can’t be Matthew because he’s still out of town.  I tell the resident to close for me, then rush thru my scrub out process.  I go into the gallery to make sure April is still in OR 4, and there she is, wearing one of my scrub caps and talking animatedly with Link.  Hitting the intercom button I ask “Hey, how are you doing in there?”

“Jackson, you don’t need to check up on me.  We’re doing fine.”

“Yea Avery, you didn’t tell me you were once married to such a badass.”

“That seems to be the consensus today.  How much longer guys?”  They look at each other and do that mind talk thing that all surgeons have, and both turn towards me simultaneously.  “An hour” they say in sync. 

“Nice” says Link, nodding in appreciation.  Great, April has another fanboy. 

“Ok, thanks guys.”

 

I find Alex in his office, sitting on the corner of his desk with his coat on that reads chief of surgery.  The guys are each sitting in a chair, and there aren’t any police around, so I take that as a good sign.

“Ah, and here he is now.  Daniel Lemming, Rick Thomas, meet Dr. Jackson Avery.  This is Dr. Kepner’s husband.  Dr Avery, these are the guys that took down the shooter.”  Husband huh? So, that’s how we’re playing it.  I’m good with that.

The guys stand up as they are introduced and shake my hand.  I squeeze a little bit harder than absolutely necessary, but April was right, these guys scream military.  I recognize the look from Owen.  They have a little blood splatter on their clothes and shoes, but nothing compared to what April was covered in.  And I find that that pisses me off.

“We came to check on Dr. Kepner” the taller of the two said.  “She was pretty amazing out there.  We just wanted to make sure that she was alright.”

“She’s in surgery right now.  As the surgeon, not the patient.  No thanks to you.  Do you want to explain to me what they hell you guys were thinking allowing my wife and the mother of my children to follow you INTO THE GUNFIRE?!?!”  I can’t help how much my voice has raised during that short little sentence.   They can probably hear me in the peds ward.  The need to take my anger and fear out on something, someone, is oozing from my pours.  Alex puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes.  Both in comfort, and a reminder not to attack Navy Seals.

The shorter one, Daniel I think, put his arms up in a placating, or maybe protective manner.  “Look man, she said she was Army.  She knew what she was doing.  And she didn’t follow us, we followed her.  Once we caught up to her, we told her to run, to hide, but she told us to pound sand and kept darting into the middle to pull people back to safety.” 

“You should be incredibly proud of her sir.  Your wife was amazing out there.  Not very many people run into a literal firestorm, unarmed, to help pull people out of danger.  Military or not.  By the time we got to the shooter, she had half the hallway cleared and everybody dragged into store fronts.”

“Once we had the shooter down, she turned into a drill sergeant, ordering us left and right to help with the wounded until the ambulances arrived.  As people trickled out of their hiding spots, she put them to work too.  She had a full field hospital going before the first first responder ever made it into the building.  She didn’t even tell anybody she’d been hit until one of the paramedics noticed it.”

“Your wife is strong as hell.”

“It’s the adrenaline” I say absentmindedly, running my hand over my beard.  Unfortunately, I can 100 percent see the scene playing out in my mind.  I think back to the trauma certification Hunt put us thru during our fourth year.  And the time, after she got back from Jordan, she had that guy trapped in the car transported to the ambulance bay.  April’s not one to let anyone or anything get in between her and what she sets out to do.  I wonder what she was planning to do if Rambo here didn’t show up.  Never mind, better not to think about it.  She’s come so far from the scared little duck facing a gunman on the hospital catwalk.  But even then, I guess, she stood her ground.  Calming down, I look them in the face again.

“She’s not Army, by the way.  She did spend almost 15 months in Jordan working as a trauma surgeon with the army. But it was volunteer.  Kind of like Dr’s without borders, but in war zones.    She’s a civilian, and always has been.  Her rank was equal to that of a captain, but she never went thru basic training.  She spent 15 months sewing up soldiers and gunmen alike not because she was ordered to, but because she knew she needed to help.  Kinda like today.  Her only defense against a gunman is a scalpel.”

The short one whistles under his breath, and the tall one gives an appreciation filled “Damn.”

Rick reaches out to take my hand again, and by automatic response I return the gesture.  “Well then sir, let me say that it was an honor to meet you today.  You have one hell of a wife.”

“Yes, yes I do.”

 

 

 

April –

It was a five-hour surgery, with the new ortho guy Link.  Though I guess he’s not really that new now, is he.  I still can’t believe I’ve been gone for so long.  Glasses, oh excuse me Schmitt, was the resident with us and I was properly impressed with how much he’s improved.  It looks like he may take ortho as a specialty, but I think he’d make a good gen surgeon too.

I spent another hour after that talking to the police, trying to fill in any gaps in their knowledge.

I’m exhausted.  Utterly and completely exhausted.  And my arm, oh god my arm is killing me.  I refuse to admit that to anyone though, especially to Jackson.  He found me in the pit and has been hovering over me all day since then.  He’s trying to pretend he’s not, but I know him better than anyone.  And Jackson is one step away from a full-fledged freak out.   I’m worn out and sore in a way that I haven’t been in years, and I feel fantastic.  It is such a rush to hold a person’s life in my hand again.  There’s no time to think or to worry, there’s only time to react and do what you’ve been trained to do.  Even after all this time, my muscle memory took over.  God, I’ve been running on such a high all day. 

Unfortunately, the high is fading. Or has faded. I don’t technically have to be here. Technically I probably shouldn’t be.  It’s not like I’m employed.  But I couldn’t leave when there were still so many people that needed to be treated. And it felt so good to be here again. Not that I don’t love working with the clinic patients. I do. The homeless and the uninsured, they need medical care too. But I’ve realized that I’m a surgeon. I was made to cut. I feel like an addict who’s had their first drink after years long sobriety. Now that I’ve had a hit, I’m not sure I can stop.

I fill out the screen to have my current patient admitted when Jackson comes over. He head nods me over to the corner, and while I roll my eyes at him, I go where I’m led. He hands me a bottle of pills, Lortab from the looks of it and a bottle of water.

“Take them. Maybe you can hide it from everyone else, but I can see how tired you are. It’s after 7 o’clock. Let’s get out if here.” I automatically look at my wrist, but my watch isn’t there. I’m not really sure where I lost it. Hopefully it’s in the lounge upstairs.

“You don’t have to wait for me.” I tell him, feeling prickly that he’s trying to shoo me out.

“April, you don’t have a car. You rode here in an ambulance remember?” Oh yea.  “And I’d be willing to bet you can’t get to the mall to pick yours up now anyways. Matthews gone right?” I nod my head in affirmation already feeling my defeat, and he goes on. “I don’t know about you, but I want to see Harriet. Let’s swing by your house, grab some clothes, then you and Hattie can stay with me tonight. I bet you haven’t called Matthew yet either have you?”

He knows I haven’t. That’s a conversation I’d like to avoid as long as possible.  Matthew isn’t going to be pleased I was involved in the shooting and didn’t tell him.  He’s really not going to be pleased that I’ve spent all day at the hospital. 

“Ok then. It’s settled. I’m sure after you talk to him, he’ll be reassured that you guys won’t be alone tonight.”

No. Matthew most definitely won’t be reassured by our sleeping at Jackson's house tonight, but it does take a weight off of my shoulders. “Fine” I reply, but irritated that he’s gotten me to agree to him without me ever having said a word, I stick my tongue out at him before I pop one of the pills, he gave me. I look at the prescription bottle and see both of our names on it. In all our years together, I don’t think Jackson has ever written me a prescription. I think I may keep the bottle.

Jackson wraps his arm around my shoulder laughing at me as we start to walk towards the elevators. He leans in close and whispers “Have you told Mer you’re wearing her bra yet?”  His breath on my ear sends a shiver down my spine and I bust into embarrassed giggles.

“Oh my god I forgot all about it.” The laughter is doing me good, and I can feel some of the tension from the day leaving me.

When we enter the attending lounge, Alex is stretched out on the couch, legs crossed at the ankles, hands under his head. “Nice Karev” I say as I pick his legs up then sit underneath him. “Good to know your manners have improved.” He doesn’t even open his eyes as his legs plop back down on my lap.

“If it isn’t the conquering hero herself. You are officially going down in Grey Sloan legend. You should have heard the way the paramedics were talking about you today. I offered to tell them some stories from our residency to give them a more accurate picture of your awesomeness.”

“Hardyharhar.”

Jackson comes out of the changing area with his jeans and Jordan’s on, but not his shirt. Damn he looks good. I quickly avert my eyes and see him smirking. I hate that he’s caught me peeking.  I feel like that scared little virgin again.

“Don’t forget the cops. I hope Matthew’s ready to fight for you because you’ve got about a half dozen marriage proposals coming your way from the sounds of it. Including Daniel and Rick, Seal and Swat respectively”. He puts his shirt on and hands me a piece of paper with names and contact information on it. When I give him my best what the hell are you talking about look, Alex speaks up.

“The guys who took down the shooter. They wanted to check on you. And worship at your feet.” Did Karev get Chief super powers? His eyes are still closed. How did he know I was giving them a funny look?  Maybe it comes from being with kids all day for the last 10 years.  That's what it is.  He has a parent's sixth sense.  He's going to be an amazing Dad. 

“They came looking for you while you were in surgery. I took the liberty of introducing myself as your husband and threatening them with the police upon introduction. They seem on the up and up.”

“Oh, Jackson you didn’t!” I let the exasperation show clear on my voice.

“Actually, I did.” Says Alex. “Strange men coming looking for one of my surgeons, on a day where she’s already been shot helping to stop a mass shooter? They’re lucky I didn’t do more than sick Jackson on them.”

At this Alex raises his fist and Jackson comes over and bumps it, all without ever opening his eyes. Boys.

“First of all, I’m not one of your surgeons Karev.”

“About that.”

A very heavily pregnant Jo walks thru the door and clears her throat at the sight of us. Alex whips his legs off of me and is on his feet in a heartbeat. It takes me a minute to gather what’s just happened, and then I burst into laughter.

“Oh god, I never thought I’d see the day. Alex Karev is whipped!”

“Shut it Kepner!”

After Jo sits down next to me, I lean over and give her a hug. It’s been a few months since I’ve seen her, and she is absolutely glowing.

“Feet hurt?”

“They are so swollen I can see them under my belly, and I can’t see anything under my belly.”  I smile commiserating with her. “It’s almost over. Then you just have swollen boobs to deal with.”

The boys fist bump each other again, smirking like the devil. Morons. Jackson grabs his bag out of his locker and turns back to us. “You ready?”

“Yea.” I turn to Jo and give her another hug, then stand up and do the same to Karev. He hesitates for only an instant before he hugs me back hard.

“Thanks for today Karev. I had a really good time.”

“You are such a freak Kepner.” But instead of the derision it was said with 10 years ago, now it’s laced with affection.

“Jackson, plans still the same for tomorrow dude?”

“Yea, I’m a” he looks at me then back at Karev. “Yea they are.”

“Kepner. Come see me tomorrow. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

“Do we?”

“Yes.  Now go home.  You look like you’re about to fall over.”

The truth is I am about to fall over.  I wave to everyone we pass on our way out of the hospital, collecting more hugs than I know what to do with.  I feel the pain killers start to kick in as we hit Jackson's car, and instead of just tired now I’m heavy and foggy as well.  When he starts the car up, I see that the clock says it’s 8:03, and that’s the last thing I remember.  I’m asleep before I even buckle myself in.


	3. The ride home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson tries to get April home.

“So, are you hungry? Do you want to grab something to eat, maybe get some takeout?” But she doesn’t answer. When I look over at her she’s already sound asleep, arms at her side, cheek slipping to her shoulder. She doesn’t even have her seat belt on. I shake my head at the ridiculousness of the situation, then unbuckle myself so that I can buckle her in.

She doesn’t have any clothes with her, so we still need to swing by her house. She doesn’t have her keys on her, or at least I don’t remember seeing them, so I double check my keychain to make sure I still have her house key on it.

Their house is a way away from the hospital, at least compared to the rest of us who are all within an emergency page away. It makes more sense to go get Harriet and take them both home since it’s really April’s night for her and it's an hours round trip to go there and back, but I can’t stand the thought of them being on their own tonight. And she’s in no condition to take care of a 3 yr old anyways, especially one as smart and active as Hattie.

Her phone rings, then goes to voicemail, then immediately starts to ring again. I ease it out of her pocket, no there’s nothing weird about me slipping my hand into my ex-wife’s front pocket, and get it out in time to see its Matthew. And to notice she’s ignored his call a lot today. I wonder what’s going on with them, but it’s not my place to ask. I debate about calling him and letting him know that she’s ok.  If I were her husband I’d sure as hell want to know what she did today, but that’s not my place either. If anything, hearing from me instead of her might just make matters worse.  If she’s ignoring him, she’s doing it for a reason, and I for one have no desire to be on the receiving side of her wrath tonight.

What she did today.  The more I think about it, the more in awe of her I am.  And angry. So very very angry.  Does she even realize how close she came to dying today?  Does she even care?  A few inches more to the right and that bullet would have gone straight thru her heart.  I feel my hands tightening on the steering wheel with the desire to physically react to that thought.  But still, I have never been so proud of anything or anybody in my entire life.  The sort of courage she displayed today?  It’s amazing.  And then she just kept on working, like it was no big deal.  Like she isn’t sure to get a key to the city for what they did.  Aprils not a particularly big woman, not particularly strong, but she almost singlehandedly saved 32 people today.  That’s how many people we had come thru our doors today from the shooting.  32, and she laid hands on every single one.  We only had 2 deaths, one of which was the abdominal wound April was pulling out of the way when she was hit. There was no way they would have survived unless it happened in the hospital parking lot.

I talked to the military guys for a lot longer than I let on.  Karev told me we could have his office then left us to go back to work.  Eventually, we wandered off of the subject of what happened today and talked a lot about what makes up the type of person who can run into gunfire without any concern for themselves.  Faith they said.  Not necessarily in God, though that is a strong proponent in most, but the faith that you can come out of the other side of the situation intact.  You have faith that your brothers and sisters in arms have your back.  You have faith that the people in charge are making the right decisions.  And you have faith that the people you love will be waiting for you when you get back.  They talked about the desire to serve.  That for some, for most, it truly was a calling.  The feeling that you are failing if you are not out there doing what you can for your fellow man.    The feelings of abandonment that mix with the relief that most soldiers feel when they return from a tour in a war zone.  For most, he says, that instinct to protect and serve never goes away, which is why so many ex-military go into public service. So, when a situation happens in front of you, you react without thinking about the consequences, trusting your faith and training to get you through.  But April didn’t have years of military training or swat gear when she followed the trail of a spree killer.  She didn’t even have her trusty scalpel.  April ran into the gunfire with nothing but her faith to protect her.  And once again it pulled her thru.  I wonder how many more times that’ll work for her?

I look over at her when we hit a red light.  She looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping.  Her hair is hiding half of her face, and I push it behind her ears.  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since they left.  Faith that the people you love will be waiting for you.  They commended me on my steadfastness, to have my wife in a warzone for so long and for standing by her when she sacrificed everything to go there, including us.  Especially because she went by choice and not by force.  That a lesser man would maybe not understand his wife’s desire to commit herself to something outside of the house and home. But I didn’t stand by her, did I?  I am a lesser man.  I was too ashamed to admit to them the truth by this point, but they’ll find out when she speaks to them.  And then I’ll be a liar as well as a coward in their eyes.  But I was so proud to play the part of her husband today. I wanted to bask in the glow of it for as long as I could.  Would things be different today if I understood then what I understand now?  But we couldn’t see past our own pain to see the pain we were causing each other.  And then, she tried to explain it to me, the need to go back to Jordan, to save the lives of the people who risk them every single day for our safety and freedom.  She had faith that I would be here waiting for her, and I failed her completely.

There’s no point dwelling on it.  I’ve told myself that over and over the last few years, but today’s events have left me feeling hollow.  I feel naked and exposed in a way I haven’t been in years.

My phone rings, and I rush to answer it before it wakes her up.  We’re almost at her house, and I don’t want to bother her before I have to.

“Hey mom, what’s up?”

“Jackson, child, what the hell were you thinking?? I have to hear from Richard that not only was April at that shooting today, but that she was shot as well?”

“Mom calm down.  Its fine, she’s fine.  I was going to call you tomorrow.  She’s actually in the car with me now.  Matthew is out of town, so she and Hattie are going to stay with me tonight.”

“Put her on the phone right now, I want to talk to her.”

“She’s asleep right now mom, as you can imagine she had a hard day.  I’ll tell her to call you tomorrow ok?”

“There won’t be any need for it then, on I’m my way to the airport now.  I’ll see her for myself tomorrow.”

“Mom seriously, that’s not necessary.  You know plane rides aren’t good for your back.”

“Not necessary?  I’ll tell you what’s not necessary, finding out hours after the fact that my daughter in law was shot.  That’s whats not necessary Jackson.”

I pull into Aprils drive way and let the car idle.  Honestly the thought to call my mom didn’t even enter my mind.  I know that they’re still close.  They were friends long before April and I were a couple.  April makes it a point to keep abreast of things going on with the foundation for Harriet’s sake.  It doesn’t matter if the foundation says Fox or Avery, it’s all going to be Harriet’s one day, especially since the probability of me having more children is slim.

“She’s not your daughter in law anymore mom.  In case you’ve forgotten, she’s married to someone else.”

“Pshaw.  That hardly matters now does it?  April is a part of our family.  Now give my grandbaby a kiss for me and tell her her grandma will see her in the morning.”

“Ok ok, I’ll let her know you’re coming.  Anything else?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact.  We’re going to put out a statement tomorrow, as both Grey Sloan and the Catherine Fox foundation.   It’s only a matter of time until her name is released to the press, and we need it to be known that she is one of ours.  It’s going to get crazy around her for a while.  You better prepare her.”

Shit.  I hadn’t thought of that.

“Yea, thanks mom. I love you.”

“I love you too honey.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”  I sit and try to gather my thoughts for a few minutes.  But my thoughts refused to be wrangled.

“April, April we’re here.”  I put my hand on her leg and shake her gently since I don’t want to jostle her arm. 

“Matthew, I’m not in the mood tonight.  Just let me sleep.”  It’s groggy and sleep mumbled, but the words are clear enough.  The spear of jealousy that shoots through my system at the insinuation of them having sex is immediate and fierce.  I tamp it down and tell myself it’s a perfectly normal reaction to the thought of your ex being intimate with someone other than you, then try again to wake her.

“April, it’s Jackson.  We’re at your house.  We need to get you some clothes.”

“Jackson” this time she smiles when she says it. “I don’t need any clothes.  Just give me five minutes and I’ll be ready.”  She tries to snuggle deeper into the seat after that, obviously having no idea what’s going on or having any inclination to wake up.

For some reason her response makes me incredibly cocky.  I don’t think she ever told me no.  Or she has, while she was in the process of stripping me.  Sex was never our problem.  We could fall into bed even when we hated each-other the most.  And we did.  Often.  We have the toddler to prove it.  Sex was always how we communicated the best.  That’s probably where we went wrong. 

Giving up on waking her up, I go ahead and leave the car running for her and let myself into the house.  It’s weird being in here when it’s so dark and empty.  The only times I’m here is when I’m waiting for Hattie.  I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been past the living areas.  There’s not as much of April in the house as I thought there’d be.  I know Matthew owned this house with his first wife, but they’ve been married for almost 2 years now.  You’d think April would have put more of her stamp on things.  I head to where I know the bedrooms are and pop into Hattie’s room to get her favorite stuffed animal, then go looking for the Master.  I’m trying not to dwell on the fact that this is where April sleeps with her husband.  Opening the closet, it’s exactly like I expect it to be, and I grab an overnight bag off of the top shelf.  First thing is a pair of shoes, because the shoes from today really need to go into the trash with the rest of her stuff.  I grab a few shirts, then head to the dresser I assume is hers.  It has a picture of the girls together, one of their whole family, then one of the three of us.  In the back is another of the Grey Sloan group.  I don’t remember when this was, but we’re all in the dark blue scrubs, and Derek was still alive.  Maybe the day we told people about being pregnant with Samuel?  Shaking my head to clear it of unhappy thoughts, I get back on task.  The second drawer holds her pants still and I grab a few of those, and last but not least her underwear drawer.  I’m not looking I'm not looking I’m not looking.  Okay, I’m totally looking.  It’s totally cool that my hands are all over her panties.  It’s not a gross violation of her boundaries at all. She had better stuff when we were together.  I’m just saying.  Ok, I grab some panties and a bra and a pair of sleep shorts.  And then buried deep underneath I see a flash of a faded red shirt.  “I’ll be damned”. It’s an old college shirt of mine she stole from me when we still lived with Meredith.  I toss that in the bag too then head out.  She’s still in the same position I left her in when I get back into the car.  Throwing the bag into the back, I send a quick text to the nanny to let her know we’re on our way and pull out of the driveway.

 

I put the radio on low, then tune it to a local talk radio station.  Sure enough, after listening to it for less than 5 minutes I hear ‘local area surgeon April Kepner started administering medical aid before the gunman had even been subdued’. 

I put my hand on her leg again and squeeze this time.  “April, April you need to wake up.”  Nothing.   A little louder “April, the patient is coding.”

“What what, I’m up, what’s happened?” I fail at concealing the chuckle that brings me, but sober quickly enough. “April, you’d better call Matthew.  They’re talking about you on the news.”

“Damn” she says and starts feeling her pockets for her phone.  I pull it out of my cup holder and hand it to her.  “He’s called a few times, but not since I heard your name on the radio.  If you go quick you may be able to beat him to the news.”  I recognize the look on her face as the one she wears when she’s gearing up for a fight, then she hits the button.

She turns to me and says, “It went to voicemail.”

“Hey baby, sorry I’m calling so late, it’s been a crazy day.  I have some stuff to talk to you about today.  I may have understated how things turned out and now that everything’s calmed down, I need to talk to you.  Give me a call back please. Love ya.”

She ends the call them immediately hits dial again, to the same results.  Sending him a text, I see her shoulders relax and some of the tension leave her body.

“That bad huh?”

“I should have told him earlier.  I know I should have.  But it would have brought on a fight, and the last thing I needed right then was to fight with Matthew.  Today was amazing.  I mean it was terrible and horrifying and to be that close to the worse humanity has to offer is a sobering experience.  But I felt amazing Jackson.  The adrenaline rushing and the feeling of my hands on a patient like that again.  To have my hands buried inside a person, using skills and gifts that no other person has but me to save their life.  It’s a high I’ve been missing for years.  I needed to be on my A-game, and I couldn’t risk him bringing me down.”

“Hmmmm.  So, you miss operating huh?”  Her head is back against the headrest and her eyes are closed.  She still looks exhausted, but she has this glow around her now.  It’s the surgeons high.  I recognize it well.

“I didn’t at first.    You remember, what a hard time I was having.  And when I started working at the clinic, I felt like I was doing Gods work.  I am doing Gods work.  But after a while, I needed more.” She shrugs, both apologetic and unapologetic at the same time. 

“God made surgeons too.”

“Yes!  Yes, thank you.  That’s what I keep saying.  And Matthew.  He just doesn’t get it.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Come on, I thought I was your person?”

I keep peeking over at her while I’m driving.  I have the oddest feeling that if we were sitting on the couch or at the kitchen table, we’d never be able to have this conversation.  Something about the lack of direct contact between us and the aid of her painkillers is making her say things to me she probably wouldn’t otherwise.  We’ve kept a pretty strict separation of church and state since we both got with other people.  And her relationship with Matthew has always been a hard subject for us, for obvious reasons.

“It’s not the surgery he’s against.  Not really.  I want to come back to Grey Sloan.  And Matthew doesn’t want me to.  He says there are plenty of other hospitals for me to work at.  But I could never do that.  Grey Sloan is my home.  I feel like it would be a betrayal to go somewhere else.  Could you imagine what Catherine would say if I took a job at Seattle Pres?  She’d disown me!”

“Nah.  Buy your hospital? Sure.  Yell at you? ‘What were you thinking child?’ Absolutely.  But not disown you.  She loves you too much for that.  And she’d understand, if it was something you had to do.”  That makes her giggle, and she relaxes against the seat even more.

“I love it when you mimic her.  You do it so well.”  She sounds like she’s starting to fall asleep again.

The thought of April working somewhere other than Grey Sloan bothers me more than it should.  She hasn’t worked with us for years now, but then she wasn’t working as a surgeon.  I can’t imagine her running another ER than ours, high fiving different people at the end of a spectacular save.  We became surgeons together.  Excluding Cristina, who runs her own hospital, our final resident class is all still together.  Hell, we all own the hospital we grew up in, April excluding.

“If it weren’t for Hattie, I’d probably go back to the army.”  It’s said quiet and distant, and when I whip my head over to look at her, she’s asleep again.

Why is there so much going on in her life that I didn’t know about? 

When we get to my building, I can barely wake her up enough to walk inside.  When we’re in the elevators her legs give out completely, and I have to scoop her up in my arms to avoid her hitting the floor.  I ring my own doorbell and silence the nanny’s exclamations when she opens the door and sees April unconscious in my arms.

“Dr. Avery!  I’ve been watching the news all day.  Is Dr. Kepner all right?”

“She’s fine Martha, she’s just asleep.  I couldn’t wake her enough to get her upstairs.  Just give me a minute to get her situated and then you can leave.  Is Hattie asleep?”  Martha is following me in the bedroom area, and without thinking I bring her into my room.  Oops, but too late now. Some habits are harder to break than others.  Martha helps me get her shoes off, and I put the bag on the other side of the bed to get her sleep clothes out. 

“Martha, could you help her into something better to sleep in?  She hates sleeping in scrubs, and those are probably pretty nasty by now anyways.”  I pull the needed items of clothing our of the bag and place them at Aprils feet.  It’s either let her sleep in bloody scrubs, or have someone help her, and I’m pretty sure she’d be less upset over the nanny then me.

I swing by Harriet's room to check on her, tucking her in and placing a kiss on top of her curly head, then head out into the kitchen to get a beer and wait for Martha to come back. 

“Wow, she is really out of it.  She didn’t make a peep.  I got her into the red shirt and shorts you set out.  Do you need me tomorrow?”

“Yes please.  I know it’s not your day to do so, but if you could pick Harriet up from here tomorrow to take her to school then bring her back here afterwards.  I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be just as crazy as today.”

“Of course, Dr. Avery.”  She hesitates for a minute, obviously vacillating over what to do next.  “When Dr. Kepner is feeling better, please tell her thank you from me.  She is truly a hero.”  With that she leaves, and I collapse on the couch.   What a fucking day.  I push my shoes off with my toes and pull my shirt over my head.

I’m almost asleep on the couch when I hear the front door open.  Opening my eyes, I see Maggie easing into the house. 

“Hey you.  I was worried about you.  I didn’t see you at all today.  Are you ok?”

“Come here.” I open my arm and she eases herself down next to me putting her head on my shoulder.

“What a day huh?  I still can’t believe that April was involved in all that.  Owen was walking around the hospital all day like a proud papa, reminding anyone who would listen that he pushed her to go into trauma.  He couldn’t be prouder of her if he’d birthed her himself.  How is she doing?  Did she get home ok?”

Fuck.  It’s only now just dawned on me that April is asleep in my bed.  Why didn’t I walk the extra feet to put her in the guest room instead?

“Yea she’s ok.  She finally collapsed though, once all of the emergencies were out of the way.  She’s here actually, not at home.  Matthew is out of town and I didn’t want her by herself after everything she’s been through today.”

“Here?  As in here?”  She’s looking around like April is going to materialize out of the walls.

“Yea, she fell asleep in the car and I couldn’t wake her up again.  I was almost tempted to bring her back to the hospital, worried that she’d had internal injuries that we’d missed, but her vitals were strong and stable.  It’s just exhaustion and stress.  Her body probably went into down the second she gave it permission to relax some.”

“That makes sense.  And you’re right, it’s better for Hattie that they stay here tonight anyways.  I’m sure Matthew will come collect them in the morning. Or do we need to send someone to get him from the airport.  He’s on his way home I’m assuming?”  Maggie doesn’t need to know that April hasn’t even talked to Matthew about what happened today.  That’s between them.  Instead of answering her I take another sip of my forgotten beer.

“Well, I’m exhausted, and you are too, let’s go to bed.”

“Yea, about that.  We’re going to have to sleep in the guest room.”  She gives me a bemused look, and I hurry to explain before I make it any worse.

“See, when she was in the car, she was so out of it that I couldn’t really wake her up.  I got her to come to enough to get her into the building, but her legs gave out when we were in the elevator.  I had her bag of stuff over my shoulder, and then I had to carry her, and I couldn’t reach my keys and had to wait for Martha to come and let us in, and she was getting heavy.  She weighs more than she looks when it’s dead weight in your arms.  My room was closest, and I really wasn’t thinking about anything other than putting her down before I dropped her.”  I’m pretty strong though, and Maggie knows it.

“Yea no, that makes total sense.”  She’s getting up off of the couch and reaching for her purse.  “I’m just going to head home tonight.”  I start to protest, but she cuts me off, and admittedly I don’t fight it like I probably should. “No, it’s ok.  They need you tonight.  I’ll see you at work tomorrow ok.”

“Umm, actually I took tomorrow off.  I just, I needed to be here with them you know?  It’s April.  She could have died Maggie.  But we’ll be in at some point in time.  Karev has asked April to swing by sometime during the day.”

“Sure of course.  OK.  I’m going to go then.”  She leans in to give me a quick kiss and then she’s out the door again.  Fuck this day.  I’m going to bed.  I swallow the rest of my beer and put it in the recycling in the kitchen, an April thing I kept going even after we broke up and take my shirt into my bedroom.  Seeing her asleep here on her side of the bed, wearing that stupid college shirt, it’s almost like nothing has changed.  And then I see the tiny diamond ring on her finger from another man and remember everything has changed.  I grab some clothes for tomorrow, then head into the guest room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to officially thank my husband for his help with this chapter. He's (bless his heart) a bit of an asshole so I asked him for his opinion on April fighting with Matthew. We ended up fighting about how April and Matthew would fight, but that worked out for the best. I'd already written 2 versions of this chapter, one from Jackson's POV and another from Aprils POV, and ended up scrapping both. What that then turned into was a 10 page vomit of words that I hope plays out pretty well. The next chapter is really just a continuation of this chapter.


	4. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's day 1 post shooting, and it's a whole new world for everybody.

April –

I come to slowly, every muscle in my body hurting.  I feel like I’ve been trampled by a heard of elephants, and I guess the description really isn’t that far off.  I smell coffee and try to ease my way out of the bed.  Jacksons guest room is all sharp angles and expensive furnishing.  It’s so Avery that it’s ridiculous.  He needs a woman’s touch to soften all the edges in this place.  The only room that has any softness and feminism is Harriet’s room.  But then upon closer inspection, I realize that this isn’t the guest room.  I’m in the master. In the corner of the room is the painting we bought together right after we got married.  St.Idiot by Karl Goerlich.  We picked it because it had both medical and religious overtones to it.  I didn’t know he still had it.  His closet is open and on full display is his ridiculously expensive wardrobe and the line of over priced sneakers. Looking back at the door to see it’s cracked, but barely, I hobble over to the other closet and open it.  There’s a small spattering of women’s clothes and a few pairs of shoes, but nothing to indicate that Maggie’s with him full time now.  I wonder why she’s still going back and forth between here and Meredith’s house.

I don’t remember getting here last night, but obviously I must have.  Turning back around I see my overnight bag on the side of the bed.  Clothes, undergarments, shoes.  Shampoo and deodorant.  Even my makeup bag.  Why do I not remember getting any of this?  I grab the whole bag and head into the bathroom.

This room is enormous. Oh god, the shower is magnificent.  The inheritance really went to his head.  I don’t want to think about how much money he’s blown.  I turn the water on full blast and melt when the heat and pressure hit my body.  My legs feel like jelly, so I just sit on the floor of the shower and let the water pound on my aching muscles.  From this position I can wash my hair and my body without the shakes getting too bad.

“April, you okay in here?” Comes Jacksons voice from the door, and I realize he probably can’t see me thru the frosting on the shower doors.  I’ve probably been in here for a while now.  I put my hand in the air to show him where I’m at while answering.

“I’m on the floor, it hurt too bad to stand.”  At that he comes rushing over, then stops so fast he almost tips.  I want to laugh, but I’m afraid it would hurt too bad.  He turns his back to the shower and talks to the ceiling. 

“I ah.  Good.  Your ok?  Good.  My mother is here, and we kept Harriet home from school today.  It’s already after 10.”  Normally I’m the one that rambles when I get nervous.

“Thanks Jackson.  For everything.  I’ll be out on a few.  I’m just moving slow today.”

“No problem, take your time.  There’s just a lot going on outside that we need to talk about.”

“Speaking of which, do you know where my phone is?  I didn’t see it.”

“I have it.  It’s been ringing non-stop and I didn’t want it to bother you.  Your parents called, I hope you don’t mind that I answered it.  They’re upset that you didn’t call them yourself yesterday, and I think it really threw them for a loop to hear me answering your phone.  But I told them that Matthew was out of town and that I wouldn’t let you go back to the house by yourself.  I told them that you didn’t talk to anyone yesterday, that you went right from star surgeon mode to sleeping like a zombie.  The idea of calling them probably never entered your mind since I know it didn’t enter mine, and that we didn’t realize that they would release your name to the press.  My mom spoke up and shared her irritation about being left out of the ‘April is a hero’ loop too, and they talked for a while on the pain of having such ignorant neglectful children.  I talked them out of hopping on the first plane down I think but promised them that you’d call as soon as you woke up.  I put Hattie on video chat with them.  That helped calm some of their worry.   Mom says if you want them though we can send the plane for them and they’ll be here by tomorrow.”  The care he’s taken dealing with my parents, who he didn’t have the best relationship with anyways brings tears to my eyes.    

“Thank you, Jackson.  So much.  Has?”

“Matthew hasn’t called yet, since I know that’s what you were getting ready to ask.  Does he not have access to the news were he’s at by the way?”  The irritation in his voice is palpable, and I have to admit it’s weird that he hasn’t called me since yesterday.  He must be madder than I thought he’d be. 

 “What else?”

“We can talk when you get out of the shower April.”  Oh yea.  I’m in sitting on his shower floor.  His hot water heater must be amazing.  Maybe I can get the same one for at home?

“Is Martha here, or maybe your housekeeper?”

“No, why?”  Dammit.  If it were anybody but Jackson, I’d ask for help with no hesitation.  Nudity stopped bothering me long ago.  But it’s Jackson.  The hot water has done wonders for my muscles, but every time I put my hands down on the floor to push myself to standing, I get a tremor running through my body.  And the arm that I got shot in won’t support my weight at all.

“I may have overdone it yesterday.  I’m not sure I can stand up on my own.  That’s ok.  I’ll be out in a minute.”  But instead of leaving, he just stands there staring at the ceiling.    

“Fine.  But promise me you won’t tell Matthew about this.”  A laugh forces it’s way out of me unbidden, and I readily agree.

From my angle in the floor, I can see him reach behind himself and pull his shirt up and over his head.  He takes the chair out of the corner of the bathroom and moves it to the middle, then grabs the stack of towels off of the counter. 

“Can you reach the faucet?” he asks, and I give it a reach.

“Nope.  This is your fault too you know.  If you didn’t have a shower the size of a swimming pool, I’d be able to use the wall the get up but sitting in the middle under the stream like this means I can’t touch anything.”

“That reminds me.  Don’t think you’ve avoided the whole running into gunfire and blaming me for it conversation.  You may be a hero, but I’m still pissed as hell.  How could you be so reckless?  Did you even stop to think for a second about what we would have done without you?”  There’s real heat in his voice as he says this, and that pisses me off.  He opens the door, looking everywhere but where I’m sitting on the floor.  He’s got a towel in one hand and is leaning in to turn off the water.  I hear him mumble ‘fuck it’ before he steps fully in and stretches the towel out between his hands.  Looking straight at me, he leans down and scoops me up under the shoulders and hauls me to my feet, wrapping the towel around the front of me as he does so.  It’s one of those extra-long towels, and he presses up against me to wrap it around my back.  I ignore the heat that flashes through me at the intimate contact and try to break the tension that has wrapped around us.

“Hypocrite much?  Who was it that ran into a literal burning building searching for his ex-girlfriend huh?  Or what about running into a burning bus to rescue that kid?  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”

“And if I remember correctly, you started wailing on me with your fists the second I re-appeared.  Both times. But I can't do that, can I? Despite how bad I desperately want to. I can't hit you and I can't kiss you, so all I have left to me is to yell at you.”

He’s got his arm around me as we’re inching our way to the chair in the room, and gently helps me into it.  Without me asking, he grabs another smaller towel and pushes my head down over my lap, with maybe more force then strictly needed, then wraps my hair in the towel and pulls me back up with his hand wrapped in the towel and my hair.  It’s such a familiar and erotic motion that my eyes roll into the back of my head.  Fire shoots down from the back of my head where his hand is wrapped in my hair all the way down to my toes, with it coiling deep in my belly.  This is bad.  This is really bad.  We haven’t been alone together for this amount of time in years.  Years.  And within a day we’re back to old habits that should be long forgotten.  Intimate inappropriate habits.  He seems to realize it too, because he stares at me like he can see straight through me, then roughly clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and looking up at the ceiling again.

“You good?  You’re good.  I’ll send my mom in to help you out.”  He grabs his shirt up off of the floor and is out the door like the room is on fire.         

By the time Catherine softly knocks on the door, I’ve managed to get my heart rate back under control and wiggled into my underthings and am sitting back on the chair to put on my pants. 

“April honey, can I come in?  I’ve brought your cell phone.”

“Of course, Catherine.”  I should be embarrassed with her catching me with my pants around my knees, but her smile is so warm and genuine, the concern so clear on her face, that it brings another round of tears to my eyes. 

“Oh sweetie, let me help you with that.”  She hurries over to help me stand and holds me steady while I pull and button my pants up.

“I don’t know why I’m so wobbly today.  I only got nicked in the arm.”

“Honey, you know it was more than that.  Pulling all of those people to safety?  It’s going to be days before you can walk straight again.  I’m sure you didn’t get a proper medical examination after all of that.  Didn’t let anybody make a fuss over you after it happened.  You’ve probably got pulled muscled and sprained ligaments all over the place.  I bet if we put you into an MRI machine you would light up like a Christmas tree.”  I pull my shirt on over my head, then allow Catherine to push me back into the chair.

She takes my hair out of the towel, then picks up my hair brush to start working out the tangles.  I can’t remember the last time someone other than my hair dresser brushed my hair for me.  She starts humming under her breath, and I close my eyes and revel in the sensation.  I feel her start to tug on my head and open my eyes to see her braiding my hair.  I lift one hand to give her arm a squeeze, then watch her work in the mirror.   At last she walks around to the front of me, pushing strands of hair back to where she wants them.  She grabs both of my hands and holds them in hers. Looking me in the eye, she speaks softly, but firmly.

“April dear, I am as proud of you as if you were my own flesh and blood.  But please, never ever do anything like that again.  Harriet needs you.  Jackson needs you.  Your family needs you.  If it came down to your life or the lives of all those people you helped yesterday, we’d pick you over and over again.”    She’s crying, and I’m crying, and I stand up so that we can hold each other close.    After a few minutes, the mom is gone, and Catherine Fox has returned.

“Now, let’s get out of this bathroom and go attack the day!  We have a lot to do, and day light is ticking away child.”

 

When we walk into the living area, Jackson is sitting on the couch and Harriet is playing in front of him.  When she hears us enter, she yells “Mommy” and comes running over to me.

“Nugget!”  I bend over to catch her but can’t pick her up and the movement makes me dizzy, so I satisfy myself by placing one hand on the couch to steady me and one hand on Harriet’s head. 

“Coffee?” Jackson asks, but doesn’t wait for my affirmative before he’s up and in the kitchen.  Catherine starts the morning debriefing.

“April.  Word is out that you are the person of the moment.  Everyone from the local news to late night talk shows have been calling for you.  Ellen’s people have called twice already.  I didn’t think you’d mind, so I appointed the foundations publicist to speak on your behalf.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.  Thank you for handling that for me.  I really have no desire to deal with any of this.”

“We told people that you would put out a statement when you were ready, but that right now you were spending time recovering from your wounds and being with your family.  I emailed you a copy of the entire statement that was released to the press.  Just a recap of your medical history and your time with the Army.  People are also requesting a photo op with you and the 2 gentlemen who took down the shooter.  I’d like to suggest Grey Sloan for that.  Oh, and I’ve also appointed one of our lawyers to represent you as well.  The more protection you have at the moment the better I think.”

“Whatever you think is best.”  Jackson hands me my coffee, and I blow on it while scrolling thru my calls.  Matthew hasn’t called or texted once since yesterday at 8:30. He’s in Florida where his parents live, so it’s already past noon there.  I try to call him, and it goes straight to voicemail this time.

“Matthew it’s me.  I’m getting worried about you.  I need to talk to you.  I know you’re probably mad at me, but we need to talk.  Call me back.”  Ignoring the looks on both Jackson's and Catherine’s face, I motion for her to continue. 

“I know that Karev told you to come by the hospital today, but there is press camped out there in droves, so if it’s ok with you, he’s given me permission to speak to you on the hospitals behalf.”  I look at Jackson for some sort of clue what this is about, but he just shakes his head and shrugs.  Apparently being on the board hasn’t given him any insight into what this is about. 

“We have a problem, and I’m hoping that you can solve it for us.  It’s fortuitous maybe that all of this happened when it did, as we were planning on reaching out to you within the next few weeks anyways.  This just moved our time line up some.”

“I didn’t think that decision had been officially made yet mom.” Says Jackson.

“There was never any other choice but her son.  We were just giving you the time to come to that conclusion yourself.  You took too long.”  Turning back to me she continues “We need a new cardio attending.”

When it becomes apparent, I’m about to interrupt her, she puts her hand up to stop me and powers on.

“We need a new cardio attending.  We happen to have a world class cardio surgeon acting has head of our Trauma department.  She should be in the cardio department, but you know how surgeons ego’s are, such fickle things.  If she can’t be the head of a department, she doesn’t want it.  We proposed that she remain the head of the trauma department, but also act as a cardio attending.  That was agreeable to both departments, but then that left her with too little time to handle the day to day details that accompanies running your own department.  Owen could handle it, but he has no desire to do so.  With two children under the age of three, he has his hands full already.  It was suggested that we hire a surgeon to be an official Chief of Emergency Medicine.  Someone familiar with surgery’s end of emergencies who can better equip the department to be prepared for mass casualty events like yesterday, but still quickly turn over the generic stomach aches and flu symptoms that make up the majority of the patients the ER gets.  Dr. Altman would remain the head of trauma, but Trauma would officially fall under the ER instead of the other way around as it has been in the past.  Sort of like how Maternal Fetal Surgery is its own department, but still falls under Pediatrics.  Since you ran the ER before, and very well I may add, even if it was in an unofficial capacity, you were the first name tossed out to do so in an official capacity.  You’ve got the experience of running a department, only if it was only on an interim basis and long-term employees still talk about you April.  The department hasn’t been the same since you left.  Being Chief, instead of just an attending, would of course come with all the perks the title insinuates, including a paycheck to match.”

Not just department head, but chief of emergency medicine. 

“Would I still get to operate?”

“April dear, you could pick any surgery you chose.  As a trauma surgeon, you have skills that the others just don’t have.  In the field, you’ve done everything from open heart surgery to amputations, to appendectomy’s on toddlers.  You’ve delivered more babies and done more burr holes than any surgeon outside of those departments.  I know, I looked.  You’ve got the skills to back this up April.  That’s why we’re offering it to you. What happened yesterday was just an unfortunate coincidence in timing.”    

Chief!  I can’t believe it.  I guess that explains Alex’s insistence yesterday that I was one of his surgeons.  I sit there stunned, trying to wrap my mind around how quickly this is happening.  Jackson and Catherine look at each other and seem to take my silence for hesitation.

“I know you’re probably concerned about your patients at the clinic.  It’s been discussed, often by some, about opening a second Memorial clinic to be ran thru the hospital and the foundation.  One not attached to the hospital property, but one that would be more accessible to those that have trouble coming to a hospital or are uncomfortable with doing so.  Your experience would be a wonderful addition to getting that project up and off the ground.”

“Now that I did know about.” Pipes up Jackson from his spot in his chair.  He turns his attention back to playing with Hattie, and I wonder if he’s the one that’s been pushing for the clinic. 

I really should discuss this with Matthew.  But I know what he’ll say.  No.  In no uncertain terms no.  He is 100 percent against me working at the same hospital where Jackson works, as plain and simple as that.  But….

“Yes.  I happily accept.”  Catherine beams like she just won the lottery, and Jackson has a small smirk on his face, even though he’s still looking down at Harriet playing at his feet. 

“Wonderful!”  She claps excitedly, and that bring Harriet to her feet and over to her grandmother.  At almost 4 years old, she’s gotten bigger than I can believe, and she picks up on peoples emotions like it’s her super power.

“Why are you so happy Grammie?”

“Your mommy just made me very happy little girl!  Are you hungry?  Grammies hungry.”  Catherine looks around at the adults in the room looking for confirmation, and I nod enthusiastically.

“I could eat Hattie I’m so hungry.” And pretend to make motions like I’m going to get her. She squeals and scrambles away from us. 

“I’ll go get some food then.  I’ll be right back guys.”  Jackson stands up from his spot and heads into the kitchen.  He picks up his keys and wallet from the counter, then heads in to kiss his mother and Harriet on their heads.  After a moments hesitation he kisses me on mine as well.

When the door bell rings, I just assume it’s someone from the hospital and place Hattie on my lap to read the book she just brought me.  Instead, when Jackson opens it, it’s to see Matthew standing on the other side of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give an official shout out to the Glee channel on Youtube. The music is fun and pleasant enough to keep me going, but doesn't pull strong enough emotions from me that is messes with what I'm trying to get across lol. I must have listened to Glee's version of Gloria half a dozen times writing this chapter :)
> 
> Also, here is a link to the painting I chose to mention in Jackson's bedroom. https://www.artsy.net/artwork/karl-goerlich-st-idiot


	5. The Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matthew surprises April

Jackson steps back to let Matthew in, and quietly shuts the door behind him.  Instead of leaving like he had planned on doing, he positions himself between us, standing close to the couch.  Though I would never admit it out loud, it makes me feel relieved to know that he’s guarding my weak side if I need it.  Because right now, all of me is weak.

Matthew comes into the apartment but doesn’t step further past the first few steps.  His hands are in his front pockets, and he is radiating a cold calmness that is unsettling to say the least.  But Matthew is my husband I tell myself, and has every right to be upset with me. 

“Matty” yells Harriet, scrambling off of the couch and running over to him.  He gives her a small genuine smile, but doesn’t pick her up like she’s wanting him to.

“I’m glad to see that you’re ok.” He says, turning back to me.  I try to stand too fast, and my body gives out on me.  Jackson takes 2 large strides to the right and has his arm around me before I can either catch myself or hit the ground trying, and eases me back onto the couch.  I seem to be getting worse instead of better.  Logically in my head I know that that’s to be expected, but it sure is damn inconvenient right now.

“She’s not, as you can see for yourself.”  Where Matthew is full of cold rage, Jackson’s voice is laced with heat and fire.  This is bad.  This is really bad.

“This is a discussion between me and _my wife,_ if you don’t mind.” He says, boring holes into Jackson as he says it.  “And according to the news, you made it out of yesterday just hunky dory.”

“Matthew, I’ve been trying to call you since last night.  When did you get here?  Where’s Ruby?”

His demeanor is hard and frigid, almost scary.  He’s rocking back and forth on his feet, hands still in his pockets, holding himself with the tightest of control.

“I’m sorry.  I, I didn’t know how to tell you.  I’m sorry.  We don’t need to do this here, let’s go home.” I place my hands on the couch to try to lift myself again, but stop when his voice rings out full of derision

“Oh, I went to the house.  Expecting to find my wife.  Instead I found police cruisers blocking our street and news crews lined up and down the block.  Then I went to the hospital, afraid that maybe it had been worse than the news was reporting.  But nope, no April.  Instead I’m informed that the ‘Hero of Seattle’” the words are dripping off of his tongue and I cringe at hearing it “Is taking some well-deserved leave with her family to recover from her injuries and to please direct all requests to her publicist.  I find my way into the surgery ward where at least some of the people know me, only to be told that they think she’s at Jackson's place. I just had to see for myself that you’re ok.  I’m glad that you are." He takes a big shuddering breath, then continues. "Please don’t call me anymore.  Ruby is with my parents still.  I’ll text you to let you know when you can swing by to collect your stuff.”

“Matthew!”

“No April.”

“She was _shot_ Matthew, and then without even pausing she saved dozens of people.”  Jackson says in that tone of voice that I’m oh so familiar with.  It says, without ever saying the words out loud, ‘what are you fucking stupid or something?’ He’s always been the first to defend me, no matter the situation, and I close my eyes and pray that this doesn’t end in bloodshed.

Matthew is almost vibrating with suppressed anger.  “She was, and instead of calling me, she spent the day in surgery with you.  Then. Went home.  With you.”  It would be better if he raised his voice or screamed I think.  His quiet anger is disconcerting.  I don’t know how to defend myself, because that’s exactly right.  I didn’t want to call Matthew.

“Where were you shot?’

“Um, my arm.  I was shot in the arm.”  You can see the waterproof bandaging under my shirt sleeve.  It probably needs changed.  Water proof doesn’t really mean drown yourself in the shower proof and it’s looking a little worse for wear.

“Did it require medical attention?”

“Yes.”

“And who stitched it up?  He asks like there’s not a doubt in his mind, and of course, there’s not.

“I did” says Jackson, and there’s defiance in his voice when he says it.  I wish I could hit him.  Does he not realize that he’s making the situation worse?

“Jackson” Catherine says from the other chair, and I start at hearing her voice.  I had completely forgotten she was even here. “Why don’t we take Hattie and give them some privacy son.”

Before she makes it up off of her chair though, Matthew responds.

“That’s not necessary, we’re done here.  She’s all yours.” 

He turns back to the door, but stops with his hand on the handle.  “I’m glad you’re ok.” He says with his back towards me, then walks out of the apartment. 

 

All of the air and tension rushes out of my body and I fold in on myself, head down between my knees.  Catherine swiftly moves to sit next to me, and Jackson moves to follow Matthew out of the apartment.

“Jackson. No!” Catherine’s voice is loud and harsh, and I raise my head so fast it makes me dizzy. Harriet looks around as if trying to figure out what is going on.  Jackson freezes with his hand on the handle, mimicking Matthew from just moments before, already breathing as if he’d been in a fight.

“You’ve done quite enough damage for one morning thank you very much.  Take Harriet, and go get us something to eat.  It’s been hours since she ate breakfast.”  It’s a tone that expects to be obeyed, and I can see Jackson struggle with trying to reign himself back in.  Jackson has always been very reactive in his emotions.  When hurt, his first instinct is to hurt back.  It’s a small comfort I suppose that he’s upset over something that’s been done to me.  Or rather something that I did to myself.

When his back stops heaving, he turns around with a forced smile and calls Harriet over to him, picking her up and placing her on his hip.

“How about it princess?  Are you hungry?  What do you want for lunch?”  It takes them a few minutes to gather her shoes, and her little bag that she insists on carrying everywhere, then together they head out in search of food.

Catherine and I sit there together in silence, with her rubbing small circles into my back.  A few minutes after Jackson leaves with Harriet, she breaks the silence.

“April honey, I know as Jackson’s mother, I may not be the first person you’d choose to confide in.  But if you want to talk about it, I do have some small experience about dealing with men who can’t handle a strong woman.”

“It’s not that.  Or not really.  The truth of the matter is this is a fight we’ve been having for months, years.  It started the minute I asked Jackson to stay with us when we got married and has been happening ever since.  He wants to move away, and I said I can’t move away from Jackson.  I wanted to get back into surgery, and he told me anywhere but Grey Sloan.  His wife, she’s gone.  But Jackson, above everything else, he’s still my best friend.  And Matthew could never understand that.  And I did lie to him yesterday.  He called to check on me, and I flat out lied to him.  I knew he’d tell me to go home and that he’d coming rushing back.  But I desperately wanted to be at the hospital and to help and to set foot in the surgery suite again and I knew, I knew, if _he_ knew, none of that would happen.”  Catherine is making soothing noises next to me, still rubbing on my back.

“And he happened to call just as Jackson was stitching up my arm.  And I knew that that would set Matthew off if I told him.  And so instead of talking to my husband, I let Jackson take care of me. He helped me get ready for surgery instead of trying to stop me like Matthew would have. And I lied to my husband because of it. Jackson has always made me brave.  I can be myself with him in ways I’ve never been able to duplicate with another person.  Even more so since the accident.  Even when being me is being a terrible, terrible person.  So I lied to Matthew, and did what I wanted, despite the fact that I knew how he felt about it.  And now, once again, my own wants and needs have lost me my husband.”  I can’t hold it in anymore and the stress of the past 24 hours comes out of me in wracking sobs.

Catherine gathers me into her arms, making soothing noises and rubbing my hair.  “April, you stop that right now.  You have done nothing wrong.  You had every right to stop and gather yourself before you dealt with the needs of another person.  What you went thru?  Every person on earth would need a minute to collect their thoughts before they went charging into the next battle.  And you are a surgeon.  That is how we gather ourselves.  No matter what is going on outside of that room, the calm of the OR brings calmness to our souls.  If he can’t understand that child, then that is his loss.  Not yours.”  I am so tired, so incredibly tired.  My crying has subdued, but taken what little strength I had with it. 

Catherine gets up and heads into the kitchen, and I lay my head down on the couch when she leaves.  When Catherine comes back into the living room to see me lying on the couch, she places the bottle of water and my pain pills she’d brought with her on the table, and lifts my head up off of the couch again, settling herself underneath me, returning to running her fingers thru my hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is shorter than the others. I think this story is going to be longer than I expected, but I hope that excites you like it does me.
> 
> My husband and I talked a lot about what Matthews reaction to all of this would be. I had thought that they (April and Matthew) were going to drag this out, but Thomas said no way in hell. And I liked that so much, we went with it. Thomas has also asked that I stop asking him stupid questions about fan fiction lmao.


	6. The Afternoon After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later on the day after

Jackson

My mom was right to send me out with Hattie.  And I hate it when she’s right.  But I was seconds away from following Matthew out of the Building and giving him a piece of my mind.  And my fist.  So, we’re at the diner down the road and Harriet is happily coloring away on her menu.

How dare he treat her like that!  And she just sat there and took it.  The April I know wouldn't just sit there and accept his bullshit.  She'd be up in his face screaming her head off at his audacity to speak to her like that.  That marriages aren't filled with ultimatums and that they took a vow until death.  But no, she just sat there and watched him walk out on her.  Less than 24 hours after she's been a part of the biggest shooting in Washington history. 

I don’t remember him being so ungrateful when it was his ass on our table.  He certainly had no problems with surgery then did he?  Or with Grey Sloan.  He should be throwing himself at her feet, thanking God for her survival.  Instead he’s…what?  Did they really just break up in the middle of my living room?  I mean, did he just leave her?  And over what?  The fact that she didn’t tell him about what happened?  Or the fact that she was with me?  What the fuck did he expect?  Somebody had to take care of her.  Am I supposed to apologize for taking care of my friend?  For loving her?  Maybe if he’d answered his fucking phone instead of pouting like a baby, he’d have known all about it.  She’s the mother of my children for god’s sake, and she can’t even stand on her own two feet without assistance.  Did he think we were going it all night long?  He better hope he doesn't cross my path in the next few days is all I have to say.

This whole day has thrown me off my game.  I slept like crap.  I must have been in my bedroom every 30 minutes checking on her.  I should have just slept in there.  Then my mother was here by the crack of dawn and had me call and tell Marsha that we wouldn’t need her today after all.  She says on a day like today, we need our babies’ home with us, and I can’t say that she was wrong. I talked with mom until Hattie woke up then anxiously waited for April to join us. And April’s phone was ringing off the chain. After I talked to her parents, I kept it with me in case Matthew called but turned the ringer off.  Talking to her parents was kind of nice.  Karen at least seemed appreciative that she was with someone who could look out for her.

But then April in the damn shower.  Scrubbing both of my hands vigorously over my face I try to get the image out of my mind and off of my body.  I should never have gone in there, but she was taking forever, and she never popped out to say she was ok when she woke up, just got into my shower.  And I wanted to make sure she was ok.  I took one look at her like that, small and wet on the shower floor, and all of my common sense went out the window.  It took all of my will power to remember that she wasn’t mine anymore and not to let my baser instincts take over, and even then, I slipped momentarily.  We even bickered like we did when we were a couple.  With heat in our voices and in our bodies.  Wrapping her hair in the towel like that?  It had been automatic, like breathing.  It’s something I used to do when we lived together.  I loved it when her hair was wet and loose, dark against her pale skin after being towel dried.  Sometimes we'd start out with her hair still in the towel, and our motions would leave it on the floor.

If Harriet and my mother weren’t there this afternoon, who knows what would have happened.  I shake myself again to get the images out of my head.  I would have pummeled Matthew, that’s for sure.  Course, if he'd have knocked on my door while I was ravishing his wife, maybe he'd have tried to pummel me first.

My mom almost immediately sent me a text telling me to stay out of the apartment for a while so after we eat lunch, I take Harriet with me to the hospital to go and check on my patients. 

Normally I would put her in the daycare while I round on my patients, but I don’t have that many on the floor right now, and I’m not technically on duty, so I keep her with me.  I don't even bother putting my lab coat on, just grab my stethoscope and wrap it around Hattie's neck to hold for me.  I don’t want to be away from her today, and maybe she can help me smooth out any unhappiness. 

She charms them all, just like I expected her to, and I let my patients know that Dr. Kleise will be handling their care for the rest of the week.  When a patient asks me why, I simply tell them that Harriet's mother was injured yesterday and I need to be home with them.  One even offers to let Hattie check her vitals for her.  Hattie loved it.  Said she was just like Doc.

“Jackson!”  I turn and smile seeing Maggie hustling to me.  She bends over to greet Harriet, then presses a kiss to my lips a little deeper than normally shared in the hospital hallways. I can't say that I blame her.  It's been a weird 24 hours.

“Hey you guys.  Were you looking for me?  Did April and Matthew make it home ok?  I saw him here earlier.  He was looking for her here.  Weird right?  He told me that he’d been in Florida at his parents’ house and couldn’t get a flight back until this morning.  He seemed really upset about it.  I tried to tell him that we took really good care of her, but I can’t imagine being away when something like that happens to the person you love.”  I close my eyes and try to reign in my irritation.  She had no way of knowing that he wasn’t upset about her getting shot and was more upset about her spending time with me.  The whole situation sets my blood on fire. 

“Ah, no.  No, April is still at home with my mom.  Harriet here was hungry, and then we came in to check on my patients.”  Karev is walking towards us, and Hattie starts pulling on my hand, wanting to run over to him.

“Walk, don’t run” I tell her, then watch as she skitters over to where Alex stops to greet her.  He picks her up and gives her a fist bump, reaching into his pocket for a piece of candy.  Why he still carries candy with him when he’s not with kids all day anymore is beyond me.

“Jackson, how’d it go with Kepner this morning?  Do we have our new ER Chief? “

“What?  Aprils coming back to the hospital?”  Maggie's looking between us with confusion and hurt that I hadn’t already given her this information.

 “She’s alright, but I’m going to take the rest of the week off.  Put me back on the schedule for Monday.  I already talked to Dr. Kleise about covering my service for the week.  I just, I won’t be able to concentrate right now.”

“Dude, I get it.  Remember when Mer was assaulted by that patient?  I barely left the hospital for weeks.  The chair in that room probably still has my ass print in it.”

“She said she’d take the job, but then something happened and now I’m not so sure.  Why don’t you guys come by after work tonight?  We’ll order a pizza or something.  She’s not moving around so great today.  Her body finally realized she pushed it way past its limits.  That reminds me, I need to get some supplies to change out her bandaging.”

“April’s still at your house?  I’m so confused as to what’s happening right now.”

“Cool, I’ll let Jo know. I’ll see you tonight Harriet.”  He offers her his fist one more time before putting her down. “Bye Uncle Alex!”

Maggie is staring at me, waiting for some sort of explanation, I think.

“Come on Maggie, let’s go to the supply closet.  I need to grab some stuff.”  Taking Harriet’s hand in mine, we wait for Maggie to put her tablet on the charging station then head in the direction of the supplies.   I don’t know how much information to share, as it’s not my story after all, but it’s obvious that she’s hurt at being left out of the loop.  When we reach the room, I tell Harriet not to take anything out of its packaging then start grabbing stuff to change Aprils bandage.

“Yes, April is still at my house.”  I don’t know what the big deal is.  Alex is right.  Nobody batted an eye when he plastered himself to Mer and the kids after she got hurt.  And those aren’t even his kids.  Hattie is my daughter, and April is, well, April is April.  She’s Harriet’s mother, and my oldest friend in the world. 

“She didn’t tell Matthew about what happened yesterday.  Apparently, he has a problem with her wanting to get back into surgery, and a problem with her coming back here specifically, and she was worried if she told him he’d throw a fit about her being here all day.  Which he did by the way.” I’m trying to control my anger, but it’s apparent from Maggie’s reaction that it’s still slipping through.

“She tried to call him when we heard her name on the news, but he wasn’t answering his phone.  Same with this morning.  He must have been on the plane this morning.  I don’t know what the hell his excuse was last night.”

“So, Matthew doesn’t want her working here, but she took a job anyways?  And why the Chief of the ER?  Doesn’t Trauma always handle the Emergency Room?”

“Actually, that’s been in talks for a while now.  April running the Emergency Room.  The department hasn’t run nearly as smoothly since she left, you know that.  The events of yesterday just moved up the timeline some.  I think my mom wants everything finalized before we have to release another statement to the press.”

“Ok, well that makes sense.  But why didn’t you tell me that you guys were trying to bring April back?”

“It’s a board issue Maggie.  We were trying to make sure that all of the departments were covered while causing the least disruption.  Now you have your cardio attending in Altman, she has the title of chief she deserves has an award-winning trauma trained cardio surgeon, and we have someone with the skills and knowledge of the way we run things running the busiest department in the hospital.  Meredith knew about it too.  So did Richard.”

“Yea ok no makes total sense.  It’s a board issue, got it.”  She’s obviously upset, but I don’t know how to apologize for something that I didn’t know I was doing wrong.  I pull her into a hug instead.

“I get that, the not telling me about April coming back to the hospital.  It wasn’t a done deal.  Still isn’t, from the sounds of it.  What I don’t get is where _you_ play into this.  Why are you so mad?”  Breaking the hug, I step back to put some space between us.

“Because April was shot yesterday Maggie.  Why does nobody seem to care about that?  She was shot doing her job and helping dozens of people, and all Matthew cares about is that she spent the day in the hospital with us without his permission.  He would rather she was weak and subservient, waiting at home like some good little housewife instead of using the gifts that God gave her and saving the lives of innocent people.  He’s trying to take this independent and vibrant woman and squish her into this tiny little box. You should have seen her yesterday.  Covered head to toe in blood.  Strangers mixed with her own, and she didn't hesitate for a second to demand to be let into an OR to help her patient.  Then he shows up, and you should have seen her today.  She can’t walk, her whole body has the trembles from the abuse she put it through, and then she just sat there and took all the bullshit he laid at her feet.”  I know my mothers feminism is showing through, but you can’t have been raised by The Catherine Avery without having a thing for strong women, and April is nothing if not that.  I’m surrounded by them all day every day.

“But if she lied to him about it, doesn’t he have every right to be upset at her?  I mean, how would you feel if that had been me?”

“The point Maggie is that she even felt she had to lie to begin with.”  I don’t really know why it’s made me so mad, only that it has.  I’m breathing heavy and my temper has run away from me again. I clear my throat and do my best to put a smile on my face.

“Anyways, it’s been a stressful couple of days.  Just ignore me.  Are you coming over tonight?”

“Yea, I’ll be there after work.”

“Good.  I’ll see you then.”  I give her a kiss and try to settle myself into my skin before we head home. 

 

I swing through the drive thru of April’s favorite burger place in between the hospital and my apartment.  Harriet is asleep in the back, and I can’t stop my eyes from wandering to her.  When Hattie is active and moving, like she is 90% of the time, she looks a lot like me.  She has my curls, and my eyes.  Her skin tone is a beautiful mixture of April’s and my own.  But when she’s sleeping, I can see pieces of April coming thru her.  Looking at her asleep in the back seat of my car, she is still and peaceful, and looks so much like her mother.  It’s already 3 o clock, and I know if I wake her up, she’s going to be a grump before bedtime, so I try to take her out of the car seat as gently as possible. 

Waking up lightly, I make soothing noises, rubbing circles into her back as he puts her head down on my shoulder and goes back to sleep.  Thinking about the irony of carrying her mother up this very same elevator yesterday brings a smile to my face.  I open the door as gently as I can trying not to jostle Harriet or drop the food.  I don’t know what I was expecting, but April asleep with her head on my mother’s lap is not it.  My mother looks like she may be asleep to.  An ache hits me deep in my chest, and for several seconds I just stand there with my sleeping child in my arms looking at them.

When I come back to the living area after putting Hattie in her bed, April is sitting up and stretching with a grimace of pain etched into her face.

Pulling the food onto her lap, she gives me a death glare “If you say one ‘I told you so’ about how sore I am today I’ll chuck this burger at your head.”

Chuckling, I put my hands up in surrender and sit on the arm chair next to the couch. “According to you, you already hear my voice in your head.  I don’t think I need to say it out loud for you to know it’s true.”

Rubbing her hand across April’s cheek, my mom stands up and gathers her things.

“I think I’m going to go see my husband, and then take a nap.  I’ll have everything arranged for tomorrow morning April.”

“I’ll be there.  And Catherine, Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome love.  I’ll see you then.”

“Jackson, walk me to the car son?”

“Of course, mom.”  Turning to April I ask, “Will you be ok on your own?”

“Go Jackson, I’m fine.”  Taking a bite way too big for her mouth, I hear a moan and what I think is ‘god I’m starving’ as I follow my mother out the door.

My mother waits for me to shut the door, then wraps her arm in mine.

“I’ve always liked April.  That is a strong woman in there.”

“I know.”

“The police called her while you were out.  They have her personal items.  She can come pick them up at any time.  She said she was going to take an Uber out to get her car, but that’s ridiculous.”

“Of course, mom.  I’ll take her to go get it.”  This feels ominous.  I don't normally agree with her this often.  It's making me nervous.

“I know you will.  She arranged to meet with the men who took down the gunman tomorrow.  They’ll use one of the conference rooms at the hospital.  And then she’s going to give a statement to the press.  We’ll announce her promotion at the hospital at the same time.”

“So, she’s going to accept the job still?”

“Of course, she is.  You don’t think she’d let something like a man stop her from what she wanted to do, did you?  When has she ever before?  April is a surgeon.  It’s a calling, not a choice.  You’d think after all that she’s given up for it, you included, he would have understood that fact. And Jackson?”  It’s a kick in the gut to hear her say it so brashly like that.  April gave me up to go back to Jordan. And I let her didn't I?  I can feel the lecture coming from my mother already.  She never can mind her own business.

“Yes mom?”

“Stay out of it Jackson.  Matthew is her problem, not yours.” 

Matthew has been a pain in my ass since the minute he laid eyes on April, and nothing about that has changed in all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up a new Dr. Get over it lol.


	7. Stoned April

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A light heart'ed chapter before we get into some gritty stuff.

April –

Jackson still isn’t back by the time I finish my burger.  Sitting back with the water bottle Catherine got me earlier, I take a look at my phone.  It’s been a little over an hour since I had my last pain pills.  I took 2 at Catherine’s urging, and I can already tell that that was a mistake.  That would explain why I was asleep with my head in my Mother in Laws lap.  It would also explain why I’m not the least bit embarrassed about it.

I set an alarm on my phone to get up tomorrow, then drop it back on the couch.  There hasn’t been anything from Matthew, not that I expect there to be.  I have enough clothes to last me another day, but if I’m giving a press conference tomorrow, I need something other than skinny jeans and t-shirts.  I’ll uber to go and get my stuff from the station tomorrow, then go get my car, then head to the house before I go to the hospital.  I don’t care what he said about waiting for him to call.  He’s not so mad he’s going to change to locks on me between now and tomorrow.

I don’t really know how much force Matthew had behind his declaration that he didn’t want me at home, but I took him at his word and arranged to crash at Mer’s for the next few days.  If he still won’t let me in the house, I’ll move into a hotel.  Catherine already said that I could have an advance on my first paycheck.  Or maybe a signing bonus.  After all, I am kind of saving their asses, and not the other way around for once.  It’s strange to think that this will be the fourth time I’m hired by this hospital.

I have to go pee, but I’m still so shaky.  And the pain meds have really gone to my head this time.  I don’t know if that’s good for my coordination or bad for it. This is worse than when Harriet was born.  Gathering my resolve, I push up off of the couch, leaning heavily on my non-injured arm to do so.  Once I’m solid on my feet, I wobble my way to the front restroom.  Is that the front door?  The panicked “April” calling from the front room tells me that is was.  I crack the door, then holler at him “I’m in the hall bathroom, take a chill pill.”

“God, don’t scare me like that.”  The relief I feel emptying my bladder allows me to ignore my obvious irritation at this sudden onset OCD of my whereabouts.

“Seriously Jackson, I’m just going pee.”

“Where was this lip when we needed it earlier today?”  I don’t think he meant for me to hear that, as it was quieter than the rest, so I pretend that I didn’t.  Once I turn the water on to wash my hands, he opens the door the rest of the way and leans against the door frame.  I try to remember if I’ve ever told him how sexy I think that is.  Because his cocky casualness leaning against the door frame watching me wash my hands is hot.  No doubt about it.  I don’t think I have told him.  I wonder if I ask him to stop doing it if he’d make me tell him why?  That’s it, I’m not taking any more of these pain pills.  My brain filter has gone straight out the window.  At least my mouth filter is still in place.  For now.  This is worse than being drunk.

“Well, moms gone.  I changed my voicemail to refer all calls to my publicist, and doesn’t that sound weird, so the constant ringing has almost stopped, and Hattie is still sound asleep.  Whatever shall we do with ourselves?”

With the rising of his eyebrows, I feel a blush creep up my neck and over my cheeks.  “You know what I mean.  Let’s go watch tv and you can tell me about your day.  Come here, come help me.”  He comes close and goes to wrap his arm under my shoulders, but instead I just grab his hand and hold it to me, using it to steady me.  He doesn’t pull away, just holds me tighter and matches his step to mine.

This is disconcerting.  This isn’t how a Kepner is supposed to behave as a houseguest.  Polite and helpful, that’s how I was raised.  Not mouthy and flirty.  Is that what I’m doing?  Am I flirting with Jackson?  It’s been a long time.  No more pain pills!

Back in the living room, he kisses my hand before he lets it go, then settles himself on the other side of the couch.  I sit my butt in the corner then stretch my legs out in front of me on the cushions.  This really is a nice couch. It's big and it is deep. Great for sitting.

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

“Excuse me?”

Oh my god.  His face is awesome.  And now the mouth filter is gone too.  I can’t stop giggling.  Reaching into my pocket, I toss him the pill container.

“Here, take these.  I was going to keep the bottle, because it had both of our names on it, but I don’t want it anymore.  My filters are completely gone.  I just meant tell me about your day.”

“You’re stoned!”

“I am not!  I’m just a smidgen looser with my tongue than I am on a normal day apparently.”

“I don’t remember you like this after Harriet was born.  And you must have been on massive pain killers then.”

“Nope!”  I say it with pride, letting my grin split my face.  “I was breast feeding remember?  Stuck to only Advil and Tylenol.  Why do you think it took so long for me to get up and around?  Besides that, I have an amazing pain tolerance.  I only took them this time to humor you.  Because this was the first time, I could remember you ever writing me a prescription and it made me nostalgic.  And then mom said I needed to take them.  And she made me take two instead of one.  But I seem to be humoring you more than I should be, so it’s gotta stop.  I can tough it out from here on out.  I should be way better tomorrow anyways.  I feel like I did when we ate all those pot cookies.”

"Mom?  You're calling her mom?"

"Shhhhh, Don't tell her.  It will go to her head and she'll never let me call her anything else again.  I love her so much but she's soooooo bossy.  She'll be like 'April child!  When's the last time you got laid?'  Remember how she was always trying to get me laid.  And then I was getting laid, like a lot, and I couldn't tell her because it was you!  Mom get's me, on like, a fundamental level. Mom is awesome."

“Missing your filters huh?”  He looks so damn cute the way he’s grinning at me and I feel my own face answer his in reply.

“Not completely.  I didn’t tell you how hot you looked leaning up against the doorframe in the bathroom earlier.  With your arms crossed over your chest and your muscles flexing and your legs crossed at the ankles you looked hot hot hot hot hot.  But nope!  I kept that to myself.  I also didn’t tell you that I love the beard on you.  I wish you would have grown one this thick when we were together.  I want to run my fingers through it. Maybe tug on it a little.”

“Ok.  April is stoned.  Got it.”  Even with his darker complexion, I can see the heat rush to his cheeks and his eyes darken in color.  He is so pretty.

“Are you ok?  Did I do something wrong?  Should I not have told you how hot you are?”

“No, no I’m fine.  As a matter of fact please continue.”

“You’re so pretty.  Thank you for helping me today.  And last night.  And today.”

“What are the chances you remember any of this do you think?”  He’s still smiling, with his head turned to the side like he’s thinking about something, so I smile back.

“Well, it’s proven that patients with a low tolerance to narcotics, which I think we can agree I am definitely displaying right now, have a higher likelihood of suffering from memory loss while using said narcotic, so I’d say pretty it's pretty decent odds that I won't.  At least if I took a nap or something.  But I’m not tired right now. So maybe I will! Who knows. I really want to kiss you with that beard. Maybe I should take a nap.”

I can’t interpret the look Jackson is giving me, but since I can agree that I am pretty stoned right now, it makes some sense that he’s looking at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.  I wish Arizona was here!  She was always so much fun to get drunk with.

“I think I hear my heart singing.” 

“Wow. Stoned.  Well anyways, I told Alex and Jo to come over tonight.  Maggie too.”

“That sounds like fun!  It’ll be fun to hang out with everyone outside of the hospital before I start work without it being a special occasion.  Mer’s supposed to pick me up tonight before she heads home anyways. I’ll send her a text to come over with everyone else, if they haven’t told to her already.  We can have a party!”

“What?  What do you mean pick you up?  Where are you going?”  He looks almost panicked, and I giggle at the continuation of the Where’s April game.  I’m giggling a lot.  That makes me giggle.

“My husband just left me, remember?  You should be familiar with that since you did it too.  Only you were nice enough to leave me a place to live when you did it.  So thank you for that.”  He looks hurt, and I don’t want him to look hurt.  We were having so much fun!

“April.”

“Don't look sad Jackson. I get sad when you get sad. And anyways, Mer said that I can crash at her house for a few days until Matthew comes around, or I get an apartment.  Personally, I don’t think Matthews going to come around." I put my fingers to my lips and make a shushing motion, indication that we're sharing a secret. "Don't tell anyone, but I don't really care.  I think I’ve already proven that I’m a terrible wife.  Surgery or husbands and I always pick the surgery.  I’m a surgery whore and I can't keep a husband.  So, no more husbands for me.  Surgery will be my lover.  So I’ll crash with Mer until I start getting a better income then what working with the homeless pays, bless their hearts, then I’ll look for a place for me and Hattie.  And Ruby.  I miss Ruby.”

"What do you mean you don't care?  You don't care that your husband has left you because you're going back into surgery."  He looks upset, and I don't want to deal with an upset Jackson.  Maybe I need a nap after all.

"It's ok, I don't want to make you mad.  Let's watch a movie!"

His demeanor changes instantly, and he moves a little closer to me on the couch.

"No, I want to know.  You know I'll keep it a secret.  I'm your bestie.  You can tell me."

He's right.  Jackson is my bestie.  Even more so than Arizona.

"Well, he's not really leaving me because I'm going back into surgery silly."

"He's not?"

"No.  Of course not.  I've gotten offers to be either an attending or to run trauma programs all over the world.  I'm kinda good at my job, if you didn't notice.  Seattle Pres sent me an offer before I'd even finished out my last shift with Grey Sloan.  I could have done any of that without a problem.  Matthew left me because I picked you over him.  And that's a choice I'm always going to make.  So now I'm going to go stay with Mer.  Make sense?"

“No.  I mean yes. I mean what?"  I see him trying to think it over in his head, and he looks so cute that it makes me laugh some more.

"Ok. But I figured you were going to stay here?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Jackson.  We’ve been hanging out for less than a day and I’m already talking about how hot you are.  That’s why I moved out the last time we tried to live together.  Because I couldn’t be in the same house with you without wanting to jump you, without loving you.  And you’re in love with Maggie.  I still can’t be apparently.  You're my kryptonite.”  My giggles pick up until an unexpected yawn rips through me, and I stretch from my toes to my head.  It hurts, but feels so good too.  My legs pick up and land right into Jacksons lap.

“I’m never taking one of those pills again.  I’d rather be in pain.  I can’t believe Amelia likes feeling like this.  I mean it’s awesome, but I’m going to regret it when it’s over.” 

Just then Harriet comes around the corner, rubbing her eyes.

“Nuggett!” I open my arms wide, and she crawls into my lap and snuggles in tight to me.  Jackson smiles at us fondly, and I let the drugs take me to a happy place.

 

 

Jackson –

Her laughter is infectious.  It’s probably what woke up Harriet.  I haven’t seen her this loose and free in years.

It was fun listening to April ramble on about how hot I am, until she brought up me leaving her.  Then I felt like I’d been kicked in the balls. Then she brought up Matthew leaving her, and I felt the whole earth shift under my feet.  She's stoned out of her mind, so I don't know how much of her words I can take at face value.  But she seemed pretty secure in her thought process.  Just, more open about it then she normally would be.

And what she said about not staying with me for now?  Is that really why she moved out after Harriet was born?  I always thought that she wanted to move on, that she was ready to get on with her life.  She'd been dating, hadn't she?  But I guess she wasn't really, not after Montana.  I didn't know that it was too painful to be around me but not with be with me like we had been.  I mean I know she said that it was painful, but I didn’t know she meant like that.  How does she mean it?  My mind is reeling.  But she's stoned.  I have to take what she's said with a grain of salt.  I shake my head to clear it of everything that just passed between us and watch my girls instead of worrying about the past.

Hattie crawls into Aprils lap, and I’m momentarily afraid that April is going to drop her.  But Hattie isn’t a baby anymore, and an unexpected slip to the floor isn’t going to cause her any harm.   At Harriet’s request, we turn to tv to the Disney channel, and I settle in to watch some Doc McSuffins.

 

 

“Hey guys.”  I look over to where Jo is pointing to and in the arm chair is April, curled up sound asleep.  The gang got here a little before 8m, brining with them pizza, beer and hospital gossip.  They started to ask April questions about what happened yesterday, but she just looked at me with a pleading expression and I shut it down.  Thankfully stoned April was almost gone by the time they showed up and we had a pretty good evening.

“I think that’s our cue to leave.” Says Alex, helping Jo to her feet.  The sisters start gathering beer bottles and paper plates and bringing everything into the kitchen.

Alex and Jo wave their goodbyes, and I join the sisters standing in the living room. 

“Who’s going to wake her up?”

“Not me” says Amelia.

“I’ll go get her bag.” Says Maggie rocking into motion.

“No.” I grab her by the arm to stop her, then give her a smile.

“She’s going to stay here instead guys.  Harriet doesn’t need to be going back and forth if she doesn’t need to, and you guys don’t need another kid in the house to deal with in the mornings.  Besides, I highly doubt Aprils going to wake up tomorrow doing jumping jacks like she seems to think she’ll be.”

The sisters are passing communications thru their mind powers, and Amelia speaks up “But Jackson, isn’t this what made Matthew so upset to begin with, her staying with you?  What will he do when he asks how she’s been and she’s all ‘Yea Jacksons apartment is great.’”

“I don’t give a shit what Matthew thinks.” I say it quick and hard, and am surprised by my own vehemence.  Amelia brings her hands up to her shoulders in surrender, and before they can say anything else about it, I walk over and collect April into my arms from the chair, carrying her up the stairs and back into the guest bedroom.  

Placing her down on the bed, I try to rouse her by rubbing her face.  “April, wake up for just a minute.  You don’t want to sleep in your jeans.”  She lifts her hips up off of the bed slightly and does no more.  Sighing, I unbutton them and shimmy them over her hips.  Once they’re off, I tuck her in and turn off the light, giving her a light kiss on the forehead.  I place the pill bottle on her bedside table just in case she changes her mind.  I kinda liked stoned April.

Maggie is sitting in the living room when I get back, but Amelia and Meredith are gone. 

“Ready for bed?” I ask her, but I already know from her posture that she has something on her mind.  Walking through the kitchen to grab another beer, I make my way to the same arm chair I just removed April from.

“What Maggie?  She’s hurt.  What do you want me to do?”

“Yes.  And at Meredith’s house she has three Dr’s to keep an eye on her.” 

“Deluca is still a resident, he doesn’t count.  And they all have services to run and other responsibilities.  I took the rest of the week off.  I can help her until she gets back on her feet.”

“And I love you for how worried you are for her.  But that’s not your job anymore.  You get that right?  You aren’t behaving like an ex-husband should. This isn’t normal behavior.”

“She’s not just my ex-wife Maggie.  She’s the mother of my children.  She’s my first love, and above all of that she’s my oldest friend.  Nobody batted an eye when Alex moved in with Meredith again every time she needed some help.  Or when he drops everything when she’s in some kind of crisis.  But when I do it, you accuse me of being inappropriate.”

“It’s not the same at all Jackson.  And you know it.  And if you don’t then you’re being willfully ignorant of the fact.”

Moving over to the couch, I take her face into both of my hands.  Kissing her, I try to put all of my affection for her into the simple gesture. 

“Maggie, I love you.”

“I know you do Jackson.  I do.  I just think you really need to consider how you really feel about April.”

With that, she gets up and leaves the apartment.

 


	8. A busy Day Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April has to start to get things back in order

April –

It doesn’t surprise me to wake up and see that I’m still at Jackson's place.  The lights are off and it’s dark and quiet.  It’s obviously the middle of the night.  What does surprise me it to roll over and see Jackson asleep next to me, only fully clothed and on top of the covers.  Looking at my phone, I’m again surprised to see my alarm is about to go off any minute now.  I go ahead and turn it off so that it doesn’t disturb Jackson. 

I have to go pee, so I try to climb out of the bed as gently as possible.  I’m still sore this morning, but without the fine trembling running thru my body.  Now it just feels like the day after you have a really killer work out for the first time in a decade.  The only thing that doesn’t feel significantly better is my arm.  And I was shot.  So, I guess that’s to be expected.

Looking down, I’m still in yesterday’s clothes, minus my jeans.  I hate sleeping in my jeans and Jackson knows that, but I’m not quite sure how I feel about him stripping me two nights in a row.  This is also the first time he’s let me pee by myself since we left the hospital the other day.  Smiling at the thought, I turn on the shower after I wash my hands, then head back into the room to get my remaining clean clothes.  Shit.  My shampoo and stuff are still in Jackson's bathroom.  Maggie’s not here right?  I mean he wouldn’t be passed out in the guest bed with me if Maggie was here would he?  Is it weird to shower in his room two days in a row?  Oh well.  Seeing as that I'm here instead of at Meredith's house, I'm going to assume that he won't care where I choose to shower.  Walking by the hall bathroom I turn off the shower in there and head into Jackson's room, relieved to find it empty.  Hopefully when I can prove to him that I’m doing better today he’ll get over his OCD Where’s April worry and get back to his life.  I wasn’t hurt any worse this time than I have been in the past.  We were even joking about it last night.  Mer apparently isn’t the only Grey Sloan alum who’s a lightening rod for the big scary bad things.  But his response seems to be a little extreme this time.  Maybe it's because near death experiences seem to be a reoccurring theme in our lives.  Suddenly I worry about his ptsd from the last shooting he was involved in and wonder if that's why he slept in the room with me last night.  Even though the thought of being intimate had never occurred to either of us at that point, or at least not to me, there were many a night we fell asleep together after waking from nightmares. 

I really do love his shower.  It’s even better now that I’m not sitting on the floor this time.  My pick up is supposed to be here by 7, then I have an appointment at the police station at 7:30 to collect my purse and such.  I still have to get the tap and ballet shoes for Harriet too, but since I have no idea when the mall is going to open back up, and honestly, I’m not sure when I’m going to be ready to go back in there, I think I’ll break down and get them from Payless after all.  Her classes don’t start until next week, so I have some time to get them before this weekend.

I’m not looking forward to today.  Press conferences and meeting with police.  Meeting with the two guys who took down the gunman, Daniel and Rick.  I can only think of that meeting going two ways; either they’re going to yell at me like most of my family has done or thank me like everybody else has.  And frankly I’m tired of hearing both.  I like to think I did what any other Dr in my place would, anybody with the skills that I possess.  I know Jackson would have, no matter how many times he tries to yell at me for it.  Meredith has stood in front of gunmen and transported bombs between OR’s.  Anyone of my hospital family would have done the same thing I did.  And if they go the other route and tell me how irresponsible it was for a little woman like me to follow the path of an active gunman, I may have to stab them with the business end of my scalpel.  Show them how much damage a little helpless woman like me can really cause.

I wonder if I could ask Jackson to meet with them with me.  Then again, with the way he’s been behaving, I wonder if I could even get him to let me meet with them alone. 

Speak and he shall appear.  The bathroom door cracks open and Jackson pops in, back towards me.

“Martha should be here any minute.  Keep the water going when you get out and I’ll hop in really quick after you.  We can go get your car after that and bring it back here before we go to the house.”

“I told you I’d take an Uber.”

“Yup.  You did.  And _I_ told _you_ that’s not happening.  Hurry up.”  And with that he leaves the bathroom, forgetting to shut the door behind him. 

I know he can’t see me, but I roll my eyes anyways and start to rinse out my hair.

Five minutes later I’m standing in front of the mirror trying to dry off with only one good arm when Jackson comes in, pulling his shirt off as he enters.  He starts talking before he sees me and stops in his tracks when he finally does.

“Ok. Martha’s here, coffee’s made, aaaaaand you’re still not dressed.”

“I know, I’m sorry, ok.  My arm.  I’m struggling some.  Does Maggie have a blow dryer here?  I can take it into the other bathroom and use it to dry off in there.”

“Ummmmm” But he’s just standing there staring at me.  I know I’m pretty bruised.  Catherine was right about me tearing myself up.  And my whole arm is bruised from elbow to shoulder where I was shot.  It always looks worse before it looks better.  We tell patients that every day, but it must be pretty bad for him to keep staring at me like this.

“Jackson.  Wake up.”  He gives himself a physical shake like a dog shedding water.

“What? Oh yea.  What did you want?  A blow dryer?  Yea, there’s one under the second sink, I think.”  Before I can move, he heads over to it and opens it past the child proofing.  That’s pretty pointless at this point anyways.  Hattie’s been able to get around childproofing for years now.  He takes out the blow dryer and puts it on the counter, but then pulls the chair from the corner to the middle of the room again.  Once again, he pushes me into it then pushes my head to my knees to wrap my hair in the towel.  It still sends zings down my system, I have goosebumps popping out all over my skin, but Jackson just keeps on like it’s something he does every day.  Maybe it is.  I’m not sure why that thought makes me sad, but I push it to the back of my brain.  Taking a third smaller hand towel, he rubs it over my shoulders and arms, then drops into a squat on my left side to examine my bandaging.  It’s easy to remove, I really shouldn’t be getting it as wet as I have been, even with the water proof bandaging.  He pushes and prods it with his fingers, and it bring a grimace to my face, but I refuse to let out a sound.  If he thinks it’s hurting me, he’ll make me take a pain pill.  I’m not doing that anymore.  Maybe at bedtime but that’s it.  I’m sure I made a fool of myself yesterday.  The fact that I can't remember much outside of him holding my hand and Doc McStuffins does nothing to ease the irritation that I was probably a word vomiting moron.

“It looks good, but I’ll re-bandage it after I get out of the shower.  I can’t clear you to operate yet though, so when Alex asks us today, we’ll tell him another 2 weeks, at least.  I want a cat scan and an mri done while we’re at the hospital today too, just to make sure that the muscles inside are healing like they should be.”

“Clear me?  Since when did you become my personal physician Dr. Avery?”

“Since you walked into my ER with a gunshot wound Dr. Kepner.”  He shoots my sharp tone right back at me, and I can't help but smirk.  This is the us of old.  Bickering like old maids.  Kinda reminds me of Cristina and Alex back in the day.

“Well, it’s my ER now mister.”

“It may be your ER, but it’s still my hospital.  Now get out so that we can leave.  I’ll be ready within 20.  My mother will skin me alive if we’re late today.”  

True to his word, 20 minutes later I’m sitting at the kitchen counter making small talk with Martha with a coffee cup in my hands when Jackson comes out dressed with shoes on.  However, instead of heading into the kitchen with us, he starts lifting up couch cushions and looking under the living room table. I have to say it.  I can’t help myself.

“You know Jackson, if you’d put them on the hook, we wouldn’t be late.”

Grinning at me ear to ear, it’s obvious he remembers the conversation as clearly as I do.

“I know the hook.  I play with the hook.  But I’m not a hook kinda guy.”

“Well, I’m not a can’t find her keys kinda girl.”

“And where are your keys right now?”

And I think he’s won this round.  “I know exactly where my keys are.  They just happen to be at the police station.  Oh at least I really hope they’re at the police station.”

“Well, you do you and I’ll do me.”

“You guys are so cute.”  Comes from Martha, and I quickly shoot her a glance before I go back to watching Jackson crawling on his hands and knee’s in the living room.

“Aha!  Found them!”

He shakes them at me in success, then grabs his bag up off of the floor and comes into the kitchen with us.  When he settles himself on the stool next to me Martha politely excuses herself to go check on Hattie. 

“Are you doing ok?”  He looks at me quickly while gathering the supplies he needs to rewrap my arm.

“I won’t lie to you and say I feel perfect.  But I’m better than yesterday.  I’m nervous about today.  Will you…. will you stay with me when I’m meeting with everybody?”

“Of course, I will.  I wasn’t planning on leaving your side unless I physically had too.”

“And even then, you’d just hover right out of the line of sight.”

“What can I say, you know me pretty well.”  With a smile, he takes out the antibiotic cream and starts rubbing it over my stitches.

“We can take these out in another week as long as it keeps healing this nicely.  You need to take it easy.  You know it’ll only take longer to heal if you push yourself.  If I had my way you wouldn’t be picking up the car today. As a matter of fact, we could just have someone deliver it to us you know.”

“ And you know I can’t afford that Jackson.”

“April, I may not be an almost billionaire anymore, but I can certainly afford to have someone pick up your car."  When he sees my displeased face, he tries again. 

"How about we compromise.  I don’t want you driving, and you don’t want to pay to have someone pick up your car.  Let’s go get your stuff from the police, then go to the house.  We can save the car for the end of the day, and someone from the hospital can come with us and drive it back to my garage.  I bet Mom and Webber will want to have dinner or something tonight anyways.  Webber can help us out.”

“I hate to admit it, but that’s a pretty solid plan.  Ok, you have a deal. “

 

-

 

As it happened, we made it to the hospital this morning with plenty of time for my first meeting.  The police not only had my purse and keys, but a bag with the dance shoes for Harriet in them.  There was a note tapped to the bag that simply said, ‘Thank You No Charge.’   I was momentarily ashamed for the tears that it brought to my eyes, before Jackson squeezed my hand and roughly cleared his throat to get the emotion out of his.  They told us that the mall is going to be quarantined for at least another week while they try to figure out how he managed to get an entire duffel bag full of loaded weapons into the mall and how to prevent it from happening again and because of that my car had actually already been impounded.  I signed the required paperwork and Jackson wrote down the code for the garage, and they offered to have an officer bring it back to the apartment by the end of shift.  I guess it pays to be the ‘Hero of Seattle.’

Matthew was neither home, nor had he changed the locks on me.  I tried to tell Jackson to stay in the car, but Jackson just gave me his ‘don’t be stupid’ look and followed me into the house.  He’d brought a duffel bag with him from his house and didn’t hesitate to follow me back into the bedroom and help me start collecting clothes and stuff. 

“How do you know where everything is?”

“Didn’t you wonder who packed your bag the first time?  Besides, I've lived with you for the better part of what?  15 years give or take?”

“No.  Well yes, I did.  But I just assumed that I did it and just didn’t remember it.”

“I tried to wake you up, but you were reluctant to do so.  Actually, if I told you what you really said, we probably couldn’t still be friends.”  That shit eating grin of his is back, and suddenly I’m petrified of what I may have said in my drug induced sleep haze.

“In that case, not only do I not want to know, I’m going to need you to get a concussion and forget the last 48 hours please.”

“Not a chance.  April on drugs is side of you I could have real fun with.  Wanna talk about what you said to me yesterday?”

“Oh God.”  Covering my face with my hands, I pray for the ground to open and swallow me whole. 

Taking another small carry on bag out of my closet and throwing it at him with my good arm, I tell him

“You know what? Here, go gather some of Hattie’s favorite things from her room.  I know she has a fully loaded room at your house, but she may want something from mine anyways.”  Laughing to himself, or at me, probably at me, he does as I’ve bid him and heads out of my bedroom.  I pull the lock box out from underneath the bed and use my thumbprint to open it.  I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, or if he’s really left me for choosing to go back to Grey Sloan, but either way there are things I’ll need with me.  Birth certificates and social security cards.  I even pull out the file that has my marriage certificate, post-nup and divorce papers from Jackson and shove it into my bag.  If this is a permanent thing, better not to leave anything important behind. 

I don’t know how I feel about all of this yet.  I haven’t really taken the time to process it.  On the one hand, the thought of another failed marriage before God breaks my heart down to my core.  On the other, I don’t think I could really be with a man who needs me to change who I am to be with him.  After all, isn’t that essentially why Jackson and I broke up?  Because he needed me to be something I couldn’t be?  If I couldn’t do that for Jackson, there’s no way I could do it for Matthew.  I don’t even have the desire to try this time.

 

-

Jackson and I are sitting in the conference room waiting for the guys from the mall to show up.  This afternoon we’re holding a press conference in front of the hospital together in the hopes that pictures of the 3 of us together and our version of events, or at least what little we can talk about without interfering with the police investigation, will loosen the demands for interviews for all of us.  I’ve tried to avoid the news as much as possible since this happened, but I know that they haven’t given any interviews yet either.   When Jackson heard that I was using the foundations publicist to help me manage this circus, he offered the same to them.  They must have had a more in-depth conversation then he’d let on if he had their cell phone numbers programmed into his phone, but I figured that it wasn’t my place to ask.  If he wanted to talk to me about it, he would have.

We both rise to our feet when the guys enter the room, and while one comes to me and pulls me into a hug, the other does the same for Jackson.  Ok, something definitely happened that he didn’t tell me about. 

“Rick, it’s good to see you again.” Says Jackson.

“Which means you must be Daniel.” I say to the one who still has me wrapped up in his arms.  He’s not quiet as tall as Jackson, but he’s built like a professional athlete.  Thick and broad.  I can barely get my arms all the way around him.  When he finally pulls away from me, Rick quickly takes his place, and I see Jackson shake Daniels hand and do that chest bump boy hug guys do. 

“It’s good to see you under less trying circumstances” he says to me.

“Oh, I don’t know, today’s going to be pretty trying if you ask me.  I think I’d rather face down a gunman again than go in front of that hoard of reporters.  Did you see them out there?”  Rick and Daniel laugh like I meant for them too, but Jackson makes this choking sound in his throat.  He looks haunted, and I hurry to him and pull him into a hug too.

“I’m sorry Jackson.  It’s too soon.  I’m sorry.”  He’s holding me so tightly it’s just on this side of painful, and I can hear him whisper “Never again.” Over and over again into the top of my head.

We stand there like that longer than we should, but neither one of us want’s to let go of the comfort we get from the other.  When we finally do separate, I feel the blood rush to my face when I see the other two watching us.  Jackson, in typical Jackson fashion, scrubs his hands over his face and motions for us all to sit at the conference table.  Instead of us sitting on separate sides, Jackson pulls a chair out from the table and up next to where I’m sitting, and Rick does the same with Daniel, so that the 4 of us are facing each other without the table between us. Jackson is close enough that he can reach out and rub the back of his fingers over the back of my hand and arm where it is sitting on the arm rest.  Kind of like a touch stone.

“So, Dr. Kepner.”

“April, please.  I think we’re well beyond that point.”

“April then.  Army Surgeon huh?  Bent the truth a little, there didn’t you?”  Instead of sounding upset he sounds amused, and I feel my face smile in response.

“No.  I believe what I said was I was an Army trained Surgeon.  That much is 100% accurate.  I was trained in the field by the army.  Hell, if you were in Jordan in 2013 or so we probably saw each other.”

“No.  I think I’d remember if I saw someone who looks like you in the middle of the desert.”  I feel more than see Jackson stiffen at the comment, and both men must as well, because he roughly clears his throat and gives Jackson an apologetic smile.  It’s now that I remember Alex and Jackson told these guys that Jackson and I are still married.  No wonder they’re all skittish around him.

"How did you know anyways?  That I wasn't really Army?"  They nod their heads towards Jackson and Rick says "Your husband told us.  And then we looked you up."  I really should tell them the truth about Jackson.  After all, the lie was told in good faith.  Everyone in this room was just trying to protect me.  However, for multiple reasons, I find myself reluctant to do so.  It would make both Alex and Jackson into liars, and I know from personal experience that military guys don't like liars.  And there's no need to bring Matthew into this if he's not going to be my husband much longer anyways.  Jackson turns to look at me, but when he opens his mouth to speak, probably to correct their impression of our marital status, I interrupt him.  

"I wouldn't believe everything the internet tells you."

"Not the internet.  Military records.  You have quite the reputation Ma'am."  That earns me another look from all three guys, appreciation from the military men and a questioning one from Jackson.

Smiling to myself, I ask them, “Did you guys know each other before the shooting?”

“Yes.  We were both in the Navy together.  We went thru seal training together, and then were assigned to the same team.  I’ve been out for about 3 years now and joined the Seattle PD.  Swat team. Daniel here is on leave."

"Extended indefinitely now thanks to that stupid shooting.  I get to participate in a military investigation as well as a civilian one."   Daniel looks less than pleased at the prospect.

"We were at the mall that day because I have to get a new suit for a wedding coming up.”

“We can take care of that.  I have a great suit guy.  I’ll give you his number.  Way better than anything you can get off of the rack at the mall.”  I can’t help the eye roll that escapes me.

“Meet Jackson.  Former billionaire.  He’s why I was there as a matter of fact.  Our daughter needed dance shoes and Mr. ‘only the best’” I jerk my thumb over at Jackson looking wounded next to me “wanted them from the expensive shoe store in the mall.”

“Hey!  I had no part in that.  I never told you where to get the shoes.  Stop trying to blame this whole mess on me.”

“Well” says Rick “Whatever your reason for being there, an entire city owes you their thanks.”

“No, it’s you guys that deserve all the credit.  If you hadn’t had been there, who knows how many more people he would have hurt before he was stopped.”

“Speaking of which, what were you planning on doing if we hadn’t of shown up?”  Daniel looks at me earnestly, and I take in a deep breath to gather my thoughts.  I was prepared for questions for a recap of my actions, but not this.

“I’ve been trying to get an answer to that question myself.” Says Jackson, rotating his chair so that he’s facing me directly now. The look I shoot him would kill a lesser man.  I’ve made interns cry with this look.  Jackson however is apparently immune.  He just glares at me with a look of his own.  I can see the anger and fear simmering just underneath his skin.

“I don’t know guys.  Ok?  I really don’t know.  All I know is that I had to do something.  Everybody was running away from him.”

“As you should have been too” Jackson interrupts me with fire in his voice.  “Run into any burning buildings lately Jackson?” I fire right back at him.  The guys look back and forth between us, trying to figure out what sort of fight they’ve accidentally stumbled into.  I will not be made to be the bad guy here when everyone in this room has done some version of the same damn thing I did!

Ignoring them all, I power on.

“I don’t know what I would have done.  But someone needed to do something.  I did have the experience of being with the army.  I may not have had Seal training, or even basic training, but I did get put through training about what to do if I was captured or if I came face to face with an insurgent.  What’s a gun man other than a domestic terrorist, right?  So yes, I followed him.  And no, I will not apologize for it.  And if you guys hadn’t showed up, then I probably would have kept doing what I was doing, pulling those that I could to safety, or at least out of the direct line of fire, and waited for either a good chance to try to take him down myself, or for help to arrive, whichever happened first.”  I'm mad, and I know I shouldn't be, but I can't help it.  What sort of person walks into a building and opens fire?  And yes dammit, I tried to stop him.  And if it happened again tomorrow I'd do it again.  And again. 

Turning to face Jackson head on now, I barrel on “Maybe you would have been happier if I’d run away.  Maybe you could still love me if I’d done that.  But I couldn’t.  I could never forgive myself if I was too worried about my own well being to take care of those around me.  Every time I looked in the mirror, I’d see a coward.  I took an oath Jackson.  An oath to do no harm.  ‘Into whatsoever houses I enter, I will enter to help the sick, and I will abstain from all intentional wrong-doing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of [man or woman](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gender_equality), [bond or free](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Social_equality). And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, as well as outside my profession in my intercourse with men, if it be what should not be published abroad, I will never divulge, holding such things to be holy secrets.  Now if I carry out this oath, and break it not, may I gain for ever reputation among all men for my life and for my art; but if I break it and forswear myself, may the opposite befall me.’  That’s the same reason why when those two took him down, I set his arm before the paramedics got there Jackson.  I took an oath.”  I’m breathing heavy now, and the excited blood flowing through my system is making my arm ache even more than it was.  I even momentarily wish that I had brought those stupid pills with us.

“Damn” I hear Rick say.  I forgot they were in here and start at the sound of his voice.

“I know right?  Hot.”  That makes me laugh out loud, and at last the tension of the past few minutes is broken.

We talk for almost an hour after that, about everything and anything other than what happened at that mall.  Sharon, the publicist, is going to lead the press conference, so all we should have to do is pose for pictures and answer a few questions. So we can take this opportunity to get to know each other a little better. Jackson doesn't say much after my outburst, but he's always just right there, within my reach if I need him.

 

Deluca knocks then enters the room a little after noon.  At Jackson's signal, he comes further into the room, then after a moments hesitation, reaches in to hug me.  I wasn’t his teacher like I’d been some of the others, but we were always friendly, and we’ve gotten to know each other better now that he’s living with Meredith.  The hug is quick and full, conveying both his relief that I’m alright and his thanks that I have no desire to hear again.

“Drs. Kepner and Avery, the MRI machine is open and ready for you.”  Can I just say that I love the way he addressed us!  I should always be before Jackson!  I can’t wait to rub that in.  Paperwork isn’t even signed yet and they’re already addressing me first.

“Deluca, first big trauma I get when I’m back on schedule and you get to scrub in!  Hell, you can first assist!”

“Thanks?  I guess?”  Deluca looks confused as to what just happened, but Jackson knows exactly what’s made me so happy, and his ‘yea yea yea’ tells it all for me.

“Jackson, why don’t you give our friends a tour of the hospital.  We still have a little time before we have to meet Sharon, and it’ll keep you out of my hair while I do all of this.”  Jackson smiles at the Seals, then pulls me to the side by my elbow.

“But I wanted to see the scans when they come up.”

“I know you did.  And I’ll page you when they’re ready.  But there’s no reason for you to keep watch over me 24/7 Jackson.  I’m in the hospital for Gods sake.  What do you think is going to happen to me while I’m in the machines?”

“Fine.”

“Thank you.  I have to meet with Karev too, so I’ll page you when I’m done.”

“Deluca, you don’t let her out of your sight.  Page me the minute the scans are done.”

“Jackson, really!”

“Not a problem Dr. Avery.”  They talk to each other like I’m not even here.  And the two Seals are standing and waiting for Jackson to join them, nodding along like his OCD of my whereabouts makes total sense.  Boys

“Seriously Jackson, this has got to stop.”  Ignoring me completely, he invites the Seals to precede him out the door, then follows with only a backwards glance.

I think it’s time to establish my dominance. I am a Trauma Goddess after all, and I’ve been away from this hospital for way too long.  Pushing all of my pain and fatigue back into the surgeons vault, I stand up straight and bark out Deluca’s name.

“Deluca!”

“Um, Yes Ma’am.”

“What are you supposed to be doing right now?”

“I’m supposed to go with you.”

“No.  Before Dr. Avery gave you those orders.  What were you supposed to do today?”

“I had a surgery with Dr. Shepherd at one.”

“Good.  Go.  I don’t need you following me around like some lost puppy dog.  Do I look like a lost puppy dog Deluca?”

“No Ma’am”

“Do I look like a person who can’t take care of herself.  Or perhaps someone who would forget where the radiology department is.  Do I look weak and fragile to you Deluca?”

“No Ma’am.  But Dr. Avery said.”

“I’m sure you already know this, but I’m the new Chief of the Emergency Department.  You’re taking a Neuro Fellowship next year at Grey Sloan, right?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Over half of nuero’s surgeries come in thru the pit.  If you ever want to operate again while I’m on duty, you’ll remember that from now until the end of time, so long as it doesn’t involve a patient, if it comes down to me or Dr. Avery, you always choose me.  Understood?”

“Yes Ma’am”

“So, what are you doing this afternoon?”

“A craniotomy with Shepherd Dr. Kepner.”

“Good.  Scram.”  It takes all of my will power to hold in my laughter until he is out of the conference room.  God it feels good to be back.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this at 4:30 am half asleep and half buzzed. If you see any glaring grammar or spelling errors, or plot errors for that matter, please leave me a note to fix it.


	9. Life goes on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set several weeks after the shooting.

Jackson –

 

It’s been a little over three weeks since the shooting.  It’s 6 am and I’m sitting in the living room lacing up my running shoes.  There’s a gym in the building, but I’ve always preferred running outside.  This early in the morning, the sun is just starting to rise and the air is still damp and dewy with sleep.  I have on my normal skin tight runner’s pants with a pair of gym shorts over top of that with a basic tight tee shirt.  Stretching in the living room before I head out, I leave my standard ‘Gone Running’ note on the kitchen counter before I tuck my phone into its designated spot and head out of the door.

I won’t try to lie to myself and say that it hasn’t been nice having April here for the last couple of weeks.  We dropped back into old routines as if we hadn’t lived apart for the last 3 years.  April gets Hattie up and ready for school every day, and picks her up.  She makes dinner every night, and if I’m home in time we make it together.  With the left overs she packs me a lunch and has it sitting in the fridge ready before she heads to bed each night.  It’s different now because we don’t have all of that ‘new parents but not lovers anymore’ tension between us.  No longer is she freaking out about making sure she has the coffee pot set to go off in the morning or being the perfect guest.  We haven’t been this comfortable and in sync since we lived together with Alex.  Or maybe when we were first married, before life hit us in the face.  We’re us again, and it feels great.  It feels right.  Hattie is so much more active than when she was a baby, obviously, and we do things as a family after dinner like watch TV or read and practice her numbers and letters.  She’s almost beyond that already, she’ll be able to read before she even starts kindergarten.

I start my jog out slow, feeling the pavement vibrate thru my legs and into my core.  I’m not in my twenties anymore, and my knees know it, but I’m still in great shape, and pick it up a pace a block or two down from my apartment.  Lil Wayne is blasting thru my headphones, but it’s more or less in the background of my mind, being used as a metronome to keep me moving on pace.  Despite the daily, multiple times a day, reminders that I really shouldn’t be thinking about her as much as I have been, my mind always wonders back to April when there is nothing else to actively stop me.

After Harriet goes to bed each night we stay up for a few more hours just talking.  She really is a surgery junky, and has been gone for way too long.  I don’t know how she’s done it to be honest.  She could barely tolerate the few weeks she was gone when Harriet was born.  I don’t know how she’s gone years without the rush of the scalpel in her hands.  So we go over that day’s surgeries step by step getting into all of the juicy details.  We talk about the state of the pit in these days, the things that she can improve upon and the things that have stayed the same since she was last in it.  I know I’ve told her multiple times that Owen can still be heard mumbling under his breath that the pit just doesn’t run right without Kepner there.  We talk about Harriet and what they did that day, and how she’s adjusting to not having Ruby around. One night we even got into a heated discussion about the gunman and what should be done with him. Now I'm a doctor, and so therefore am not usually a big proponent of things like the death penalty. But if they knocked on my door today and offered me the opportunity to kill the bastard myself, I may have to seriously consider it. April is of the opinion that the man is obviously mentally unstable and needs to be in a hospital. She's wrong. I mean, of course the man is deranged. What kind of sane person shoots up a mall. But she's wrong either way. He deserves to be dead, or in prison. Nothing in between.

I’ve gone over to Mer’s house to spend the night with Maggie twice since April moved in with me, since she doesn’t feel comfortable staying the night with April there.  It’s nice to be with Maggie, just the two of us, but both nights I was with her I was missing being home with Hattie and April.  It’s disconcerting how quickly this became my new normal.  I’m not sure how I’m going to give it up when the time comes.

For the three Sunday’s that she’s been staying with me, we’ve gone to this great little non-denominational church that’s down the block from my building.  While I fully believe in God now, or something out there that maybe science can’t explain, I’m still not a huge fan of organized religion.  This place is a great blend of April’s Christian faith and my more relaxed curiosity.  I haven’t found a religion yet that fully satisfies my need to keep learning, and my desire to know just exactly why April woke up on that table that day when we were all preparing to let her go.  But this place brings me peace without trying to claim it has all the answers.  I tried to get Maggie to go with me a few times, but it just isn’t her thing.  It’s ironic to think that in another time and place I was giving April the same speech.

She’s reached out to Matthew a few times, to only receive short clipped text messages in response.  As far as I can tell, she’s more upset about being kept from Ruby then she is about Matthew.  To the untrained observer, she seems appropriately upset that her husband has left her and taken one of her children with him.  But I am not untrained.  And I keep thinking back to what she said when she was on those pain killers. That she just doesn’t care, and that she chose me over him. Again.  It's inappropriate how much I think about it.  When it’s just us, all she rants about is the fact that Ruby is being kept from her.  She was in the process of formally adopting Ruby.  After all the lessons we learned from Arizona with Sophia and Derek and Meredith with Zola, making sure April had a legal right to Ruby if anything had happened to Matthew had been important to her.  Not to mention that April is the only mother Ruby has ever known.  But the paperwork wasn’t finalized yet.  She’s reached out to her lawyer to see what sort of legal recourse she has, but I’m afraid that she won’t have much.  When it comes to Matthew though, she doesn’t seem nearly as upset as she should be.  She hasn’t once mentioned a desire to try to fix the marriage.  Upset that she’s failed again as she sees it, sure.  Pouting about what God must think of her?  That’s a given.  But honestly upset that she hasn’t seen Matthew in weeks?  That if things continue on this path she may never see him again?  Nope.  Doesn’t seem all that upset at all.  I can’t help but to feel a little manly pride over the whole thing.  When we got divorced, she fought me kicking and screaming, all the way up until we had the pen in our hands.  She shouldn’t have married him to begin with.  She was still in the post near death experience after glow.  If we were the responsible friends we claimed to be, we would have stopped her.  But I just so wanted her to be happy.

She’s supposed to start back at the hospital next week, and I can’t really think of any more excuses to keep her from it.  Her arm is healing nicely.  I did a great job stitching it, if I say so myself, and within a year there will hardly be any scar at all.  I took the stitches out after the first week and smother it in scar reducing scream before re-wrapping it for bed every night, despite her laughing protestations that she’s more than capable of taking care of the wound herself and that my Mark Sloan is showing.  He’d never let any of the ladies in his life walk around with a scar if he could help it.  Even when Callie was hurt, he went back over most of her wounds after she was out of immediate danger to reducing scarring.

No it’s not that I don’t want her back at work.  Just the opposite actually.  I’m embarrassed at how excited I am to see her name on the surgery board again.  She’s got her old locker in the attendings area and it’s so nice to see it there again.  I brought home her contract the other night to have her sign it, and I felt a surge of victory when she nonchalantly signed it and handed it back to me, even though I had little to nothing to do with her coming back.  No, the problem is that the after shooting bubble is getting ready to pop, and I’m not ready for it to. 

I’ve caught April looking at houses and apartments on her phone several times, and Maggie brings it up at least once a day that soon April will be gone and our lives can get back to normal.  But this feels normal to me.  I love Maggie.  I really do.  But I can’t help but think that with one or two different choices, this would be my life right now.  Only Harriet would most definitely not be an only child.  By this point in time I’m sure she’d have a baby brother or sister.  Hell, maybe both.  There was a point in time in my life where I wanted nothing more than to see April fat and happy with my baby in her belly.

But that’s not my life.  This is my life.  And I thought I was way past the point of longing for what just could not be. 

I’ve reached the coffee shop that is my normal turning around point and slow with my hands on my knees, catching my breath.  Used to be that I would go in and get a small coffee, take a few minutes to cool down before I start the several mile run home, but I know April will have the coffee made and waiting for me before I get back and I don’t try to stop the smile that spreads across my face at the thought of it.  So, I step in the coffee house to get a bottle of water then head back home.  This time, I turn the volume up higher than is probably safe to do to block out my thoughts, and take my longing for what could have been out on the pavement. 

-

By the time I get to the apartment door my breathing has almost returned to normal, and the sweat is cooling against my skin on my body.  I want nothing more than to grab a cup of coffee and jump into the shower.  The sight and sounds when I open my door though brings a whole shlew of other ideas to my mind.  I can hear the music from the kitchen as soon as I open the door.  She must have hooked her phone up to the blue tooth speaker I have downstairs.  It’s Katy Perry’s Roar, and never have I heard a more appropriate song for April.  Easing my way thru the front room and pushing off my shoes so as to not be heard, I see April in the kitchen.  Her hair is piled on her head haphazardly, with the bun falling apart as I watch and tendrils of messy frizzy curls cascading down her neck.  She’s in a light blue cami and shorts so small they hardly warrant the word. They may even be boy shorts now that I'm staring at her.  Every time she lifts her arms I see a strip of skin between her low cut bottoms and her top. The light blue color of the cami and the flush of the music has made her pale skin almost glow, and I can see her scattering of freckles all the way over here.  The only thing marring her perfection at this moment is the bandage tight against her upper arm.  She’s got the waffle iron out, she knows they’re my favorite, and is dancing and jumping around the kitchen like she doesn’t have the smallest care in the world.  The music switches over to Just Dance by Lady Gaga, and if possible her frenetic energy kicks up a notch.  I lean back against the couch and just watch her, in the pose that she told me was so sexy the night she was loaded on the pain killers.  Even when she has to still her movements to open the waffle iron, her head and knees are still bobbing in beat to the music.  She is so beautiful it hurts to watch her.  After all of this time, I wonder again how such a tiny little red head, someone so different from me in so many ways, could crawl into my soul and plant herself there so firmly?

Hattie sees me as she comes off of the stairs that leads to the bedrooms, and she breaks the spell when she yells out my name.  I bend low to pick her up when she gets to me and put her on my hip, then turn my attention back to April.  She started when she saw that I was watching her, but instead of the berating that I was expecting, she pours me a cup of coffee and dresses it just the way I like it before meeting me halfway in the kitchen and placing it into my free hand.  She doesn’t say anything to me, just keeps singing to the music and bouncing her body, and takes Hattie from my hip to place her at on the counter barstool that is designated for Hattie.  It sits higher than the others and has a back, but doesn’t have a belt like a booster does.  While she’s getting Hattie’s waffle smothered in butter and syrup, I resume my pose, only this time against the kitchen counter where the waffle iron is sitting, and revel in the flush of her skin when she sees me cross my ankles with both of my hands on my coffee mug.  I wasn’t positive before, but now I’m sure she doesn’t remember telling me all that stuff about her thinking me sexy.  She takes me in, from my bare feet to the skin tight compression pants.  My shirt is drenched in sweat and clinging to my muscles in all the right ways.  She starts to chew on her bottom lip in that way she has, and it takes all of my will power not to grab her around the waist and plop her onto the kitchen counter.  The more she blushes, looking everywhere she can to not meet my eyes, the more cocky my grin becomes as it takes over my face. 

“Breakfast ready?” I ask as innocently as possible.  I had planned on taking a shower right when I got home, but plans can change. 

“Yours is cooking now.  Why don’t you get out of those sweaty clothes while it’s finishing up?” 

Without any conscious decision of what I’m doing, I step away from the counter putting down my coffee cup and reach up to pull my sweaty shirt off over my head. I drop it to the floor, then put my hands on my waistband. I was going to push my shorts to the floor too, but stop and let her take me in.  She takes an audible intake of breath, and I feel it deep in my gut, and other places, to get such an immediate and vocal reaction out of her.

Trying to gather herself, she turns away towards the waffle iron and says “Go put that in the dirty clothes Jackson.  That’s not very sanitary.”  Her voice is wavering and high, and it turns me on so much to know what my mere presence is getting this kind of response from her.  I don’t know what has come over me, but I have no physical control over what is happening right now.

“We’ve done less sanitary things in a kitchen than that before.” I say as I invade her personal space.  My voice is deeper than normal and I almost ooze sex.  It would be pathetic if it were happening with anybody else.  Stepping way too close for anyone outside of a lover, her whole body reacts as goosebumps break out over her skin, and I wonder if her gut is clenching in memory and anticipation as tightly as mine is.  I reach up and run one finger gently down her arm and back up again, so lightly she could pretend she didn’t feel it.  Except for the fact that her chin drops to her chest and I can actually see her self-control start to peel off of her in layers.  She tips her head back to the ceiling, and I look down at her, expecting to meet her eyes, only to see them closed as if in prayer.  The image of us so close together, her light skin underneath my dark, in a pose so innocent yet so intimate just does it for me.  Tightening my arm across her torso, right under her breasts and moving my other hand to the front of her neck to both caress and pin her there, I press my front tight to her back and lean in to kiss her.  I’m hard as a rock and I know she can feel it pressed up against her.  My face is mere inches above hers when Hattie calls out for more milk and we both jerk as if shot. 

April’s immediate response is to panic, as always, and tries to pull away from me to go help Harriet, but I tighten my hold on her for just a moment, leaning my head onto hers to try to calm myself.   I’m sure she can feel my heart pounding against her back because I can certainly feel hers under my palm at her throat.  We’re both heaving as if we’ve just run miles and she leans her head back against me, eyes closed again.  Her arms reach behind her and wrap themselves around my legs as well as she can. When Hattie asks for more milk again, I lean down and place a light kiss behind her ear, then let her go.

“I think I’m going to go take that shower after all, go ahead and eat without me.  I won’t be but a few minutes.  You can have the next set of waffles.”

I retreat out of the kitchen, picking my shirt up off of the floor as I go, and quickly escape into my bedroom.  I don’t know whether to thank Hattie or to curse her.  What the fuck did I just do?  More important, why did April let me do it?

I take the quickest shower known to man with the water bordering on icy to help clear my brain and my system of April.  What the hell was that? I'll tell you what that was. I'm still in love with April.  That's what that was.  Shit.  I might as well have just peed on her like a dog marking it's territory.  I am so fucking screwed.  I need my head on straight when I go back out there, no matter what happens next.  It still takes me longer than I wanted it too, and it’s almost 15 minutes later when I leave the bedroom again.  However April put that time to good use, and by the time I reach the kitchen again, April and Hattie are gone.  I can’t help the disappointment I feel at seeing she’s left without saying goodbye.  I’ll be at work by the time she’s done with Hattie.  There’s a new note on the counter though, so I pick it up to read it while I refresh my coffee.

J

Taking Harriett to school, your waffles are in the toaster oven turned on warm to keep them yummy.  Going to the store today.  Text me with any special requests and with what you want for dinner.  See you tonight.

Love,

A

It’s so domestic it makes my chest ache, and there’s not a hint of an April who’s mad at me or worse, spiraling out as is her way.  Simply a woman taking care of her daughter and her husband.  Ex-husband.  Whatever.   With a smile on my face, I pull the ceramic plate out of the oven and start to eat my breakfast.

 

 

 

April –

The ER is my sanctuary.  It has been since I was a resident.  For the last few years I’ve been away, I’ve found other places to take refuge, places to go and try to center myself.  But nothing compared to the Emergency Room.  Something about the chaos offers me peace, if that even makes sense.

It’s been almost a month since the shooting, and I’m supposed to start back at work full time next Monday.  I came into the hospital today anyways to start taking some of the paper work off of Teddy’s hands, and because I need a distraction.

My life has finally gotten back to some semblance of normal.  The press calls have all but stopped and we can come and go without people trying to take our pictures.  The police presence has been lessened at the hospital too, and all my friends at Grey Sloan say it couldn’t have come soon enough.  I apologize several times for the inconvenience the last few weeks has caused everyone, but by the third ‘shut it Kepner’ I realize that they just want to complain about something, not that they are actually irritated about it.  As a matter of fact, if it weren’t for the fact that I was hurt, I think they’re kinda happy with all the positive press Grey Sloan has been getting lately.

Jackson and I have got a great routine going with Harriet at his place, but the more comfortable I feel at his house, the more I know that I need to get a move on finding my own place to live.  This morning can’t happen again.

This morning was, this morning was intense.  Hot.   Toe curling sexy. My sex life with Matthew, it was ok, but it never came close to comparing with what I had with Jackson.  And I was always fine with that, or so I thought.  Sex with Matthew was what you’d expect it to be.  It was like his personality, calm and gentle.  Nothing unexpected.  Flat.  Sex with Jackson was intense and passionate.  It didn’t matter if it was a quickie in the on call room or an all-night marathon in our home.  He rocked my world each and every time.   Matthew couldn’t have sex if we’d been fighting or we were angry, and Jackson and I seemed to have some of our best when our blood was already hot before we started to strip each other. Jackson took pride in pushing me to my boundaries, and I took pride in showing him how far I was willing to be pushed.   I never had any complaints about sex with Jackson, except for when we weren’t having it. 

But sex with Matthew was far and between these last few months and when we did have sex it was less than satisfactory.  And Jackson’s very presence has been setting me afire these past few weeks.  Every day I’m reminded why I couldn’t live with him before.  I want him, plain and simple.  I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I probably always will.  If Hattie hadn’t been there this morning I probably would have had him right there on the kitchen floor and reveled in every second of it.  I forgot about her very presence the minute he took off his shirt.  And that’s bad.  That’s really bad.  I don’t know what got into us this morning, and I’m sure me dancing around the kitchen in my underwear had something to do with it, but we can’t let it happen again.  I may be divorced, or close enough to it, but Jackson is happy with Maggie, and I will not get between that.  I’ve been dragging my feet looking for a new place to live, but that’s got to stop.  I’ve been taking advantage of Jackson’s hospitality.

It’s just, God it’s been so great being with Jackson though.  I mean, this is why he’s my best friend.  He just gets me, like nobody had before and nobody has since, and it’s been nice to be around that again.  Being able to be myself without worry of censure or needing to guard myself has been so freeing.  I didn’t realize how tight I’d had myself reined in until I didn’t have to do it anymore.  I didn’t realize how tense and sad I’d become with Matthew until he wasn’t here.

I thought doing the paper work for next month’s schedule would occupy my mind enough to take it off of Matthew and Jackson, but I fell back into the administer position with ease, and my mind is wandering again.

Being with Matthew was great, at first.  But once the high wore off, it became apparent that he wasn’t over his wife.  And of course he wasn’t.  He would probably love her until the end of time, and I was ok with that.  I know, better than most, that you can love more than one person at a time.  But what I wasn’t ok with was that he obviously wasn’t over me and Jackson either, and that wouldn’t fly.  I feel like a failure admitting it, but once I was over the shock of him leaving me, I was glad for it.  It just meant that I wouldn’t have to do it myself.  My parents on the other hand can’t even speak to me.  To say they’re disappointed would be an understatement.

Ruby is another subject all together.  If he thinks I’m going to roll over and play dead he has another thing coming.  I may not have given birth to her, but I’ve raised her as my own since she was little more than an infant.  I delivered her for God sake.  I am her mother, and if he thinks that he can just keep her from me without a fight he really never knew me at all.  I felt uncomfortable at first talking to Jackson about it.  He has had very little to do with Ruby and Matthew over the years, and I was afraid it would remind him of the short time where we were fighting over Harriet, but he’s been amazingly great about the whole thing.  Let’s me rant, tells me what an asshole Matthew is without being overly aggressive with it and even offered to help me interview potential new lawyers if I felt like I needed it.  The Avery name can pull strings pretty much anywhere.  He even mentioned in passing buying another bed for Hattie’s room for Ruby when I thought I’d may have talked Matthew into letting her come see me, but nothing came of that, and the subject was never broached again.

Thinking about Jackson gets me worked up, and thinking about Ruby gets me worked up in a whole different way.

Checking my watch, I see that I have almost 2 hours before I have to pick Hattie up from school.  Needing to stretch my legs, I decide to walk the ER floor, see what sort of supplies need restocked.  Not technically in my job description, but those people whose it is have more than enough to do.  A little help will never go amiss.

On my way to the supplies room I see Dr. Link and his resident in a trauma room, and make a detour in there instead.

Pulling my hair into a tail and plucking a pair of gloves from the box, I introduce myself to the patient and ask Link what we have going on.

“Bella Stone, 17, fell out of a tree apparently.”  The girl, while still in pain, flushes guiltily and gives a small smile.   “Obvious compound fracture to the left tibia, with a hip dislocation as well.  We’ve given 4 of morphine for pain, run trauma labs, ordered films and are just getting ready to make sure her pelvis is stabilized before we head upstairs.”

He’s talking to me like I’m his equal, his superior, instead of a housewife who has been out of the game for a while, and it ups my respect level for him too.  I’m going to like working with him, I can tell already.

“Are you going to reduce the hip while she’s under?”

“Yes.  There’s no need to put her thru that sort of pain when she’s shortly going to be under anesthesia anyways.  We’ll just do it all at the same time.”  He takes an exaggerated glance at me in street clothes, then offers “Do you want to scrub in?  This should be a fun one?”

I really really do, but I have to pick Hattie up from school.  Checking my watch one more time, I excuse myself and reach for my cell phone.  I send Martha a text asking her if she can handle Harriet tonight and apologizing for the short notice.  When I get the ok, I step back into the trauma room.  Jackson and I pay her well to be at our beck and call.  The benefits and pitfall of being surgeon parents.  And to think I once wanted a specialty where I could stay home with the kids.  Man, I was crazy.

“Yes, I would love to scrub in.”

The orderlies start to push her out of the room with the parents following, and I fall into step with Link.  The girl is trying to explain to her parents, while under narcotics, why she was in the tree to begin with, and the excuses are so backwards and hilarious I can’t help but tip my head back and laugh.  This is what I needed.  You can have all the boy trouble in the world, but in the ER, you are free.  We’re almost to the bank of elevators when my text alert goes off.  I pull the phone out expecting it to be Martha, and so am surprised when I see I’ve got a text from Jackson.

Jackson:  What re you doing in the hospital?

I whip my head up to look around the ER but don’t see him anywhere.  He must be down here somewhere.  I didn’t tell anyone I was coming in today, and then just went straight to my office when I got here.  The only person I’ve even spoken to is Link.  My irritation mixing with my mirth, I hurry to get a text off before we enter the elevators.

April:  What are you doing?  Stalking me?  Where are you?  I don’t see you.  I needed a distraction.

Damn.  I wasn’t thinking when I sent that, rushing to respond.  I shouldn’t told him that I needed a distraction.  Now he’s going to think that I’m all hot and bothered from this morning.  I AM all hot and bothered from this morning, but he doesn’t need to know what. 

Jackson:  I’m on my way to surgery.  The bowel obstruction we talked about last night.

I’m surprised to get a text inside the elevator, but then again, I really shouldn’t be.  I heard all about what happened during the storm last year when Mer and Baily were stuck in the elevators.  Multiple times, from multiple different sources.  I know that they had someone out to ensure that the elevators got cell service inside of them. I fire off a last text to Jackson, then put my phone back in my pocket, smiling at Link as I do so.

April:  I’m heading in with Link.  Martha has Harriet tty after

Looking at Link makes me think back to what Mer said about being stuck in the elevator with Deluca.  If everything that happened inside of it is true, I’m sincerely impressed with her ability to deny herself for so long.  If someone were to pin me up against these elevator walls, I certainly wouldn’t tell them no.  Wait a minute.  I have been.  And if memory serves me I was purring into his hands by the time he finished with me.

Shaking myself out of my very inappropriate thoughts, I walk with Link out of the elevator, laughing at something he’s said about working with interns.  I feel Jackson standing there just off to the side.  I haven’t turned my head to see him yet, but I know he’s there.  My heart immediately quickens, and my palms get sweaty with desire.  That’s it.  I have to move out this weekend.  I think it’s gotten worse over the years, this thing between us.  I always knew when he entered a room long before we became intimate, but it got more intense after that.  Now, it’s almost like I’ve been hit with a shot of static electricity.

Telling Link I’ll see him in the OR, I finally look at Jackson.  To say he looks put out is an understatement, and his pouty face is adorable.  Of course, to tell him that would be a huge mistake.  It is the height of undignified for an Avery to pout, and so to prove that he is above that, he’d storm off and pout in private.  He pushes off from the nurses desk and meets me halfway across the hallway.  I keep walking in the direction to go get scrubs, and he falls into pace next to me.

“Don’t you have a surgery to be in?” I ask him.  It’s easier to pick on him here, where I’m not meeting his eyes and I know nothing can come from it.

“What are you even doing here?  You don’t start work until next week.  As the head of the board, I could make you go home.”  I know he’s joking, but I’m still a little sore from Matthew throwing such a fit about me coming back to the hospital, so my reply may be somewhat sharper than I was planning on it being.    

“If you must know, I had a somewhat intense morning.  I looked at two rentals, went to the store, scrubbed the apartment, then came in to do some paperwork before I start next week.  You know I like to hit the ground running.  And anyways Jackson Avery, if you even think about trying to send me home, I’ll tell your mother on you.”  Peeking at him through my lashes, he looks a lot like what I’d expect a kicked puppy to look like.  Properly scolded, but just itching for you to leave the room so he can get into trouble again.

“Harsh Apes.  I never bring your mother into it when we fight.”  We’re at the supply closet, and I put my hand out to hold him outside while I go in and grab a pair of scrubs.  The last thing I need is for people to see us coming out of a supply closet together.  He’s standing where I left him mere seconds ago, still with that adorable pout on his face.  I stop in front of the women’s restroom and turn to make eye contact for the first time since this morning.  Pointing my finger at him, I give him my sassiest attitude when I reply.

“And if you did, I’d tell your mother that too.  I have to get my scrubs on.  We have a compound fracture of her tibia and a dislocated hip.  Three, maybe four hours.  Chicken Parm for dinner?”

“Sounds great.  I’ll see you at home then.”

I’m half way on my tip toes with my hand on his chest to center myself before I realize what we’re doing.  His face is inches from mine when I see the realization on his face too.  We’re leaning in to kiss, like lovers do when they part.  With a squeak that I’m embarrassed I let out, I turn and flee into the rest room.


	10. A talking to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson and Meredith in Surgery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another shorter chapter. I expanded on it over and over, and everything felt pushed and contrived so I ended where it felt real and we'll go from there.

Jackson –

 

Meredith and I are on our way up to the OR floor.  Since our specialties don’t often cross paths, we don’t get to work together very often.  But our patient today happens to be a bikini model with a blockage in her small intestine that Mer is going in to fix.  The patient refused the surgery unless she had a plastic surgeon on the team to go in and ‘make her pretty afterwards.’ Direct quote.  Mer just rolled her eyes at that, but it never hurts to keep your skills fresh in other specialties, you never know when you might need those skills in an emergency.  So instead of just coming in to close, I’m going to assist the entire surgery.

Just as the doors are starting to close, I see a flash of red hair and a laugh that is distinctly April, and lunge to stop the doors, but I don’t reach them in time.  Scowling at the door, I take my phone out of my pocket and shoot April a quick text. 

Jackson:  What are you doing in the hospital?

I immediately see the little dots of her reply and then read

April:  What are you doing?  Stalking me?  Where are you?  I don’t see you.  I needed a distraction.

I bet she did I think, and smirking, type out my reply.  I can perfectly picture her looking around trying to see where I’m spying on her from.

Jackson:  I’m on my way to surgery.  The bowel obstruction we talked about last night.

April:  I’m heading in with Link.  Martha has Harriet tty after

Link?  What the hell is she doing with Link?  Again?  I shut down the flare of jealousy that rips thru me fast and hot and follow Meredith over to the nurses station.

 

“What put that scowl on your face all of a sudden?  You’ve been smiley all day long.” 

“I have not been all smiley.” I grouch out, resting my forearms on the counter of the nurses station.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you most certainly have.  Almost inappropriately smiley.”  She’s grinning at me when she says it like she knows something that I don’t.  When I hear Aprils voice I turn around, and there she is, still laughing and smiling, trailing behind a young woman on a gurney and chatting animatedly with Link.

“And now it all makes sense.” Says Meredith from behind me.  “I’ll see you in the OR.”

April finally notices me staring at her, yes with probably a grumpy look on my face.  She tells Link that she’ll meet him in the OR after she goes and finds some scrubs and we meet in the middle of the hallway.

“Don’t you have a surgery to be in?”  She keeps walking, and since I don’t really have any choice if I want to keep talking to her, I fall in step beside her. 

“What are you even doing here?  You don’t start work until next week.  As the head of the board, I could make you go home.”  I’m kidding and she knows it, but she fights back just like I thought she would.  She has fire in her eyes and a smile and her face and she’s intoxicating in her loveliness.   She still won’t look at me straight on, but I’m so much bigger than her that I can still get the full April experience looking down at her like this.

“If you must know, I had a somewhat intense morning.  I looked at two rentals, went to the store, scrubbed the apartment, then came in to do some paperwork before I start next week.  You know I like to hit the ground running.  And anyways Jackson Avery, if you even think about trying to send me home, I’ll tell your mother on you.”  She looked at rentals?  Why didn’t she tell me she was going to do that?  Because you jumped her in the kitchen this morning, that’s why you idiot.  And why is she cleaning the apartment? She knows I have a cleaning lady for that.  Though come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since April moved in.  Just like her to tell the cleaning lady to scram but still make me pay for it.

“Harsh Apes.  I never bring your mother into it when we fight.”  We stop in front of a supply closet, and since she told Link she needed to get scrubs, I guess that makes perfect sense.  I push open the door with my arm over her head, but she puts her hand up to stop me from following her in.  I feel the frown on my face deepen, but I can’t help it.  She’s only gone a few seconds before she’s out the door with a set of blue scrubs in her hands and, is on her way again.  I know I’m following at her heels like a puppy dog for anyone who cares to look at us, but I really don’t care right now.  She stops in front of the woman’s bathroom and faces me head on for the first time since she handed me my coffee this morning.  Pointing her finger straight at my chest she says

“And if you did, I’d tell your mother that too.  I have to get my scrubs on.  We have a compound fracture of her tibia and a dislocated hip.  Three, maybe four hours.  Chicken Parm for dinner?”

“Sounds great.  I’ll see you at home then.”

I push a stray lock of her hair behind her ear then bend down to place a kiss on her lips.  But the look of panic and fear on her face freezes me in my tracks.  She’s on her tip toes, her hand already on my chest, but we shouldn’t be doing this.  Especially in the middle of the hospital.  She lets out a sound that can be described as nothing short of a squeak that a dog toy makes, then hauls ass into the bathroom.  Shit.  

Looking around casually to see if there was anyone who witnessed our indiscretion, I pick up my pace and hurry into surgery.  By the time I get through scrubbing, the patient is already under and Mer is getting ready to make the first cut.  Her eyes peeping in between her scrub cap and her face mask are flat and maybe annoyed, and I reach my hand out to Bokhee.

“Let’s do this.  Lap Pads.”

 

-

 

We’re probably an hour into the surgery before she talks about anything other that the operation and the patient.

“I know you thought I was picking on you when I said you’ve been all smiley today, but I wasn’t.  And it wasn’t just today, but most days lately.  And I have the oddest feeling we can lay the blame at the feet of a certain former chief resident.”

I try to look confused, like I have no idea what she’s talking about.  But I know I’m failing.  Because of course I do.  When it becomes apparent that I’m not going to say anything she continues on.

“You guys, you remind me a lot of Derek and me.  We had a hard time getting it together too.  For years we’d get together only to break up again.  We saw other people, slept with other people, hell, one of us was even married to another person.  But eventually, in the end, we worked it out.  If you count the post it, which I do,” That part is said with force behind it “we even got married to each other twice.  I thought we were going to get divorced too, when we thought we were going to lose Zola.  And wouldn’t that be a bitch when we’d only gotten it done legally so that we could bring her home with us. “

“I don’t know what you’re getting at Mer.”  This is the only downside to chatting in the OR.  There’s nowhere to run and hide.  

“Even though I’m with Deluca now, and I love him very much, Derek will always be the love of my life.  If Derek were to show up tomorrow, it would kill me to do it, but I’d go back to him.  I don’t think the boys would be willing to share.  Well, Andrew loves me enough that he just might be willing to do it, but Derek is probably rolling over in his grave to hear me even talking about it.”  I can see the amusement on her face, and the light pain in her voice talking about her lost love, and I give her a smile back in return.

“But April didn’t die Mer.  And I love Maggie.”  And I do.  I do love Maggie.  But April is, April is April.

“I know.”  She says simply, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.  And maybe to her, it is.

“But you said it Jackson.  April didn’t die.  And _if_ something were to remind you that while you love Maggie, April is the love of your life, we’d all understand.  I’m not saying that I wouldn’t hate you for a little while.  Maggie is my sister after all.  My first loyalty needs to be to her.  And Amelia?  You may want to consider taking the family and visiting Christina in Switzerland for a few weeks if you break Maggie’s heart.  But you guys were my family way before they were.  And we’d all understand, eventually.”

I look around at the other people in the room with us, and like all the best techs and nurses do, they give back bland faces that say we heard nothing.  Bokhee gives me a wink, then hands me a needle with the right type of sutures on it before I can even ask for them.

Mer goes back to chatting about how vain the patient is for wasting my time, and I know the momentary lecture/pep talk is over.


	11. Choices made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really struggled going forward with this story. It wasn't going where I had originally set out to go. I re-read it thru a few times and saw other paths I could have taken or expanded on and got depressed that I didn't do so. I heard the news about Sarah Drew getting a new tv show, and while of course I was happy for it, it broke my heart that it effectively ended any hopes we may have been holding out on that she could come back. 
> 
> Then I made the mistake of watching last weeks episode instead of doing my normal, which is reading the recaps and deciding whether there was enough Deluca and Alex to make up for the fact that April isn't on the show anymore, and that really killed my Japril buzz. I couldn't write a Jackson that was happy to reconnect with April when I was seeing him on the screen smiling and getting ready to go at it with Maggie on his office desk. And I had myself doubting. Was in all in our heads? They weren't even together that long. Was it like a match, lit and burned out quickly? Maybe we made up Japril to fulfill some school girl fantasy of true love that we weren't getting from our romance novels. But then I re-watched the first time. And the next time. And all the times after that where they told themselves and everyone around that that they were not in love, then almost bent the scapel in their hands from the pain of seeing each other with someone other than themselves. And I remembered that Japril was the real deal. So I've spent the previous 24 hours listening to nothing other than "lovers getting back together songs" and I hope this chapter is a good bridge to where we need to get for our happily ever after.
> 
> \--
> 
> Also, I took some liberties in this chapter, with things I that dreamed up that happened in the background and didn't appear on screen. Hopefully everything seems plausible and makes sense. If not please tell me.

April –

Jackson is still in surgery by the time I get done with mine.  Mine took three and a half hours, just like I thought it would.  Everything went perfect, and the girl should be up and moving within a couple of weeks.  Today just cemented that I’ve done the right thing in choosing to come back to the hospital.  Running the ER is different than running a normal surgery department, and it really does take someone who is proficient and tolerant in both administration and surgery.  I figure 40% percent of my time will need to be devoted to paperwork and general hospital crap, while the other 60 I can be in surgery.  The other specialties are more like 30/70%, and the Chief is closer to 15/85%.  It’s not really a surprise to me that with only Owen and Teddy to run the pit it lacked some of it’s previous finesse.  Neither of them had me.  Every chief since Webber has had me to help with their paperwork I realize.  No wonder Alex wants me back so bad.

I peek into the gallery, but don’t let anyone know that I’m there.  I don’t even go in deep enough for the residents and interns watching to notice me.  From what I can tell, barring any complications Jackson will probably be home an hour or two after me.  It’s a quiet OR today, but that’s not really surprising.  Jackson and Mer don’t operate together a lot and seeing as how they spend quiet a bit of time together outside of work, Jackson dating her sister and all, and add in the fact that Jackson is working outside of his specialty, that can lead to a quiet OR.

Our OR was anything but quiet.  Link is one of those surgeons that likes to listen to music while he works, and I gotta say I kinda dug it.  He asked me more about working with the homeless and if I was going to have any input into the second memorial clinic that was in the works.  He also got a huge kick out of the fact that I used to be married to a plastic surgeon.  I think it’s from all the scars he’s either seen or heard about since I’d seen him last.  I got the impression that he’s been told some of the wilder stories in the weeks since we operated last.  He and Jackson are friends I know, but he kept asking me questions like if Jackson was picky about what type of face cream I used.  I laughingly told him he was a surgeon and not a dermatologist.  What I didn’t tell him is that I still use the same face cream Mark Sloan recommend we use almost a decade ago.  It’s on the pricey side, but worth it.  It has great sun screen properties and my skin is still as smooth and pale as ever. Come to think of it, I’m not sure even Jackson knows that why I use the cream I do.  I’m sure it’s not something that came into conversation while we were together, and I can’t think that it would have since then.  If he ever noticed that most of us girls used the same one, I bet he just assumed it was from convenience.   Jackson tries to ignore the fact that he’s gorgeous more often than not, and the perks and trials that come with that.  Mark Sloan worked his sexiness like an art form.  If he could see what a beautiful tween his genes combined with Callie’s made, he’d never stop crowing with pride.

-

Jackson sends me a text right after I get home that he’s going to be late tonight.  I hope everything was ok with his patient.  Not knowing if he was sending it himself or if he was having one of the scrub nurses send it for him, I simply sent back Fridge or Toaster oven.  It used to be our way of determining what to do with dinner that had already been made.  Plate it and put it in the fridge, or keep in warmed in the toaster oven.  The single ‘unknown’ I get back from him is not a good indication of how the rest of his afternoon is going, and I send up a little prayer for Jackson and his patient.

Martha, not knowing when either of us would get home had already fed Harriett, so I decide to hold off on making dinner for the time being.  Maybe he’ll be home soon, and I won’t have to do anything special for him to be able to eat a hot meal.  I know it’s not my place to worry that he eats, but I can’t help it.  It’s in my DNA.  It’s been my role since I moved into the Grey Frat House.  Make sure my people are fed.  Secretly, I’ve always liked being the mother hen of the group.  It made me belong even when I felt like I didn’t.  

Harriet brought home a packet of work sheets that are supposed to last her a week.  They send them in the middle of the week that way the kids have something to work on over the weekend instead of just watching tv nonstop.  Hattie on the other hand, always insists on finishing hers as quickly as she can.  Just like her mother, she can’t stand to have homework waiting and calling her name, even if it isn’t really even homework at this age.  So, we sit down and pull out her crayons, finishing the entire packet and putting it back into her bookbag for the teachers to locate tomorrow.  Sometimes they’ll send home additional worksheets, but Jackson and I have made it clear that that isn’t necessary.  With our work schedules, sometimes it’s easier for us to handle just the one set of work sheets a week.  It’s going to get worse now that I’m getting back into surgery.  I feel a twang of guilt with the knowledge that despite our best efforts, she’s going to be spending more time with the Nanny now that Matthew is out of the picture and I no longer have an 8-5 schedule. But all of our friends have kids now, or will have shortly, and they’re all doing fine.  Our kids know our jobs, even the younger ones.  They’ve spent enough time in the hospital and listening to us talk about it that I feel confident that she knows, even at the ripe young age of almost 4, that we’re only away from her because we’re saving the lives of other people.   Zola and Sophia are both already studying surgery film and talking about medical schools.  Our kids are turning out just fine thank you. 

 

After I put Harriet to bed at eight, I decide that it’s late enough that I should make some dinner.  I wasn’t hungry when I first got out of surgery, but now I’m starving.  I don’t want to text Jackson in case he’s in a life or death situation with a patient, but I’m hoping that I’ve delayed cooking long enough that he’ll come home before its ready, or close enough after that he can eat while it’s still fresh.  I think it’s ironic that Jackson has a state of the art kitchen, and it probably only gets cooked in every few days.  And that’s being generous.  The pre me and Harriet Jackson wouldn’t use it at all except for cereal and the microwave.  It’s quiet in here by myself, but I’m afraid to turn on my music for fear that I won’t hear when Jackson comes home. After this morning I don't think it's a good idea that he catches me in his kitchen with music again quite so soon.  As a compromise, I turn on a podcast and listen to an episode of stories of the ER.

When he still isn’t home by the time the food is done, I sit myself at the kitchen counter and pour myself a glass of wine.  I’m ashamed to admit how lonely I am without him here.  I know it needs to be done, but I’m not looking forward to living on my own again.  Harriet can only take up so much of my attention, and while I love spending as much time with her as I can, it’s nice to have another adult to talk to.  It’s nice to have Jackson to talk to.  I’ve lived with another adult the last 2 years, and what I learned is that a 90 percent compatibility score done by your church means boring.  We had a boring, bleh filled marriage, and our mutual belief in God did nothing to help that.  If anything, it just made things more boring.  Who would have thought that bickering with Jackson every night would be more fun than agreeing with Matthew?  But that’s the problem.  I can’t have Jackson to talk to and bicker with every night.  He’s not mine anymore.  And as much fun as this little step out of time has been, it’s time to get back to the real world.

With my mind made up, I head onto my phone and see if there’s been any change in the housing situation since I looked last.  I’ve decided that I would really prefer a house instead of an apartment, and I’d really prefer to buy.  Not a fixer upper per say, but something that I can put my own stamp on.    I’m tired of moving around so much.  I plan on staying at GS for the foreseeable future, it’s time to set down roots.  It will be a few months at least before I have enough time and money saved to take that step, so I need something safe and affordable for Hattie and me until then.  Preferably a 3 bedroom, so I can have a guest room and enough space for Ruby.  My lawyer is filing the paperwork for the divorce and to try to get a temporary visitation order on Monday, the same day I start back at work.   I sent an email to our old landlord asking if the house we had rented when Hattie was born was available, and he’s finally gotten back to me. 

Dr. Kepner,

The current occupants are moving out as we speak, and I can have the place ready for you in two weeks or so.  The rent has risen slightly, as I am sure you can imagine, it being several years since you last lived with us, and the current rent is $1,800 per month.  As you remember, that does include the trash and water utilities built into the rent.  There is a satellite on the property now so you can have your choice of tv and internet providers.  The gas and electricity providers are still the same, and I have attached their contact information if needed. 

I look forward to having you as a tenant again, and anxiously await your reply.  Attached it the rental agreement and application if you so choose to rent from us again.

Thank you for your time,

 

Before I have time to talk myself out of it, I hit reply and type out my answer.

 

Good Evening,

Perfect!  If possible, I need a six-month lease instead of the standard year.  I am willing to pay slightly more for the inconvenience of it.  If that is acceptable, then I will have the security deposit and first months rent to you by the end of the week.

Thank you and have a great week!

Dr. April Kepner

 

Next, I look up the Marriott weekly suites by the hospital and reserve an apartment for the next 2 weeks.  A trip to the grocery store to fill the fridge and I’m all set.  A good portion of my personal furniture are in a storage unit, including my dishes and most of my pots and pans.  Matthew had a fully set up home when we got together the second time, and his house was already being purchased, so it didn’t make sense at the time to look for another home to buy, and it was easier just to put the majority of my things into storage.  His wife hadn’t even been dead a year, and I didn’t want him or Ruby to think that I was pushing her out of their memories.  Now I see that it was probably just another way for me to avoid fully committing myself to the marriage.  And his easy acquiesces that we keep the home just like his deceased wife preferred it was just another example that he wasn’t ready to move on.

After cleaning up my mess in the kitchen and making a plate for Jackson to eat when he gets home, if he comes home, I head upstairs to get ready for bed.  After a half hour of tossing and turning, it’s clear that I’m not going to be able to sleep without getting some of my chores for the next few out of my head.

I go into the office to get a pad of paper and a pen and stop at Jackson's bookshelf.  I’m impressed with how large it’s grown over the years.  And how organized.  Now, instead of all of his medical books stacked in a pile in the corner of the bedroom, they’re all on shelves and organized by subject.   On top of that, there’s a whole shelf devoted to religious texts.  He has a bible, both old testament and new.  A copy of the Torah and even a small copy of the book of Islam.  There are books on Buddhism and meditation and yoga, spirituality and several on the correlation between science and religion.  There’s a full-sized paperback copy of Medicine and Religion, and it’s obvious that this book as been read several times.  The edges are all ragged and the spine is so broken you can see almost every ridge from the outside.  Pulling it from the shelf and opening it, I see that Jackson has scribbled notes and thoughts in the margins and between the lines on almost every page.

I know that my accident changed his thoughts about God, if not necessarily religion.  We’ve talked about it several times and about what happened to strengthen his belief after Deluca had saved them from that car.  He’d started coming to church with Harriet and I whenever we could fenagle it without hurting anybody’s feelings.  What I didn’t realize until I started staying with him that he had his own church, kind of, that he went to on a somewhat regular basis by himself.  I really love it.  I was planning on asking him if Harriet and I could keep going with him even after I move out, but now I’m not so sure.  I look again at his book cases, and I’m in awe.  I wish he’d confided in me that his interest in religion had gotten this extensive.  I would pay good money to see Jackson in a yoga pose.   Preferably shirtless and in the running pants he was wearing this morning.  I’m afraid that I may be invading his privacy by taking the book with me, but I’ve never read this book, and I’m desperate to see what thoughts and opinions Jackson has added into it.  I take it with me back downstairs into the living room and pour myself another glass of wine, then get started on this weekend’s to do list.  I have a lot to get done before I start a full shift on Monday. 

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I feel is Jackson’s hands on my face and his gentle pull of the book out of my hands.  I feel him place a blanket on top of me and run his fingers through my hair a couple of times, and I drift back off again, hovering somewhere on the verge of asleep and awake.

 

Jackson –

 

It’s late by the time I get home.  Really late.  April sent me a text a few hours ago letting me know that she’d held off on dinner until her stomach was eating itself, then put a plate for me in the fridge.  The consideration and playfulness in her words is so April it makes my chest ache and brings a small smile to my face.  I feel bad for not being in contact this evening, but today has thrown me for a loop, and I needed the time to center myself before I saw her again.

When I enter my apartment, I’m surprised to see April asleep on the couch. I put my bag down as quietly as I can, placing my keys on top of it and kicking off my shoes and socks next to it, then walk over to where she’s asleep.  She’s curled up on her side with her hair partially covering her face, and my copy of what looks like Medicine and Religion in her arms pulled close to her chest. 

I sweep the hair away from her face and push it behind her shoulders, then try to ease the book out of her hands without waking her.  She stirs just a bit, but settles back down, and I pull the blanket off of the back of the couch and place it on top of her.  Putting the book on the living room table I see her to-do list next to an empty wine glass, and I pick it up to see what she’s got written on it.  She always was a fan of check lists.  This one has items on it about packing up Harriet’s stuff and items that are presumably stored at Matthews’s house.  A grocery list that has items I know she just bought for our apartment here.  At the bottom is a quickly written budget and a note to pay the down payment and 1st months’ rent.  The fact that she’s apparently found a place to live makes my heart squeeze.  Am I going to let this happen again?  Am I going to let just let her leave?  Unbidden, Mark’s words come to my mind, forever burned into the outline of my memory.  If you love someone, you tell them.  Yea well, look at how well that worked out for us last time?  Yes, look, another part of me says.  Your daughter is sleeping in her bedroom, and her mother fell asleep waiting for you to get home to them.  It didn’t turn out so bad if you look at it that way.  I have to believe that after everything that’s happened the past few weeks, hell the past few years, that I am as etched into her soul as she is in mine.  Being honest with my feelings is something that I’ve tried hard to work on the last few years.  I don’t know why it’s so hard to be honest about my feelings for April. 

My stomach gives a growl of protest, and I stop staring down at her sleeping form and head upstairs to change into a muscle shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms.  With that done, I head back into the kitchen.  When April wasn’t with me, I would never eat a decent meal this late.  If I got stuck at the hospital and bothered to come home, I’d just have a bowl of cereal before I went to bed.  Luckily, being a plastic surgeon, my schedule is pretty even unless I get caught in a trauma or an emergent burn case.   Even with Maggie, a good portion of our meals were take out when Harriet wasn’t with us.  It’s the homemaker in April that makes her ensure that everyone around her is happy and fed.  I feel like I should call up Karen and say thank you for instilling that in her daughter one day.  Instead of eating at the kitchen counter I take my plate back out into the living room and sit on the end of the couch that is left open at Aprils feet.  She always did pull her legs up to her when she was sleeping alone.  It was as if, if she didn’t have someone to cuddle with her, she would cuddle with herself.  Not for the first time in the last month I wonder what happened with her and Matthew.  Things obviously weren’t great for them if she so easily made the choice to end her marriage over where she’s working.  I wonder if I asked her honestly if she’d tell me.  There once was a time when she told me everything, even if I didn’t want to hear it.  Hell, most nights we couldn’t get her to shut up.  Smiling at the memories of Alex rolling his eyes at me as April rambled on, I dig into my dinner.  For years Alex only tolerated her because she fed him.  Now he’s one of her biggest defenders.

I turn the tv on mute then turn it to ESPN.  With a quick glance over at April to make sure I didn’t wake her up, I take a sip of my beer.  Even warmed up, the chicken parm is delicious, and I wonder how she got so good at cooking when she’s spent the better part of her teens years and adult life doing nothing other than studying.  It’s not a skill the rest of us acquired that’s for sure.  I’ve heard stories about how Izzie used to bake all the time, but that’s about it.  Lord knows Meredith can’t cook.  And most of my cooking skills were forced upon me from April.

Thinking of Mer makes me think of Maggie again.  It went better than I thought it would with Maggie tonight.  Better than I deserve, that’s for sure.  I drove around for hours after work, not really sure what I was planning on doing, just knowing that I couldn’t go back to my apartment and have April clogging up all my senses.  My body, however, knew what my mind didn’t want to admit, because sometime after nine o’clock I found myself driving down Meredith’s street.  Even after all of this time, I still have the muscle memory to bring me there.  Seeing as we’d gotten out of surgery hours ago, I wasn’t surprised when it was Meredith who answered the door.  She didn’t seem to be surprised to see me either.  While we don’t normally have a very touchy-feely relationship, I’ve always thought of her as kind of a sister from another mother, growing up to famous surgeon mothers the way we did, and she quickly pulls me into a hug.

“Good luck, and I hate you” is whispered quietly into my ear, then she released me to go and do what I had to do. 

Maggie yelled and cried, but she didn’t rail against me like I was expecting her to.  Like April did when I tried to end it with her.  And while it killed me that I was hurting her that way, it didn’t kill me that I was doing it.  Which is how I knew that I was doing the right thing.  Just like Meredith, she didn’t seem surprised.  Resigned really.  And I’m not looking forward to seeing Richard in the next few weeks.  But all in all, she acted as if she knew it was coming.  And if every one of our inner circle seemed to see this coming except for me, it makes me a little mad that nobody said anything to me about it before now.  A ‘hey Jackson, April is the love of your life what are you doing you asshole’ would have been nice a few years ago. Or maybe they have, and we just didn’t want to listen.  People did make a big deal about April staying with me for so long after all.  And I think I can distinctly remember Ben talking about April being my soul mate, long after we’d gotten divorced.  Maybe her being asleep on my couch was always a foregone conclusion.  If so, I would really prefer to have to asleep in my bed.  Preferably naked. 

I get up to take my plate back into the kitchen, and make sure to rinse it and put it into the dishwasher.  Aprils lecture at 7am isn’t worth the extra few minutes I’d save just putting it into the sink.  When I get back into the living room, April is sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

“What time is it?”

“It’s late, too late.  I’m sorry to bother you.”  I lift the blanket off of the couch and sit down next to her, so close I’m almost sitting on her lap, and pull her into me.  She stiffens at first, but then relaxes into me, body soft and pliable.

“I’m sorry about today.” She says, and it’s partially muffled where she has her head laying in the crook of my shoulder.

“Today, what about?”  I’m running my fingers through her hair, and it’s tangled from not being brushed for hours and laying on the couch.

“This morning in the kitchen.  Or yesterday morning is probably more like it.  I shouldn’t have been dancing in my underwear.  I won’t let it happen again.”  That brings a chuckle from my chest and I lean down to kiss the top of her head.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.  You didn’t hear me complaining, did you?  Cursing my own daughter for cockblocking me?  Absolutely.  But no complaints about the underwear.”  She swats me on the chest, and I catch her hand and hold it to me.  She uses the placement of her hand to sit up, at least as much as one arm around her back and the other holding her hand will allow.

“Jackson.  I feel it too.  The pull.  Hell, I’m the one who started it this morning.  And I’m sorry for that.  I should have run and gotten dressed the minute I saw you there, not shaken my ass in your face.  But it’s been this way with us from the very first time.  We’re adult enough to admit that no matter what’s happened between us, that, whatever _it_ is, will always be there to some extent, I think.  I don’t know if it was because you were my first, or if it’s just because you’re you.  And I'll always love you, in some shape and form.  But it doesn’t work.  We don’t work.  I think we’ve proven that.  And you’re with somebody.  So, I need to leave.  My old landlord, the place I lived after I moved out the last time, he said that he’d have the house ready for me within 2 weeks.  And I made a reservation at a hotel starting tomorrow night until then.  A few weeks apart, and it, whatever it is, will go back into dormancy, and we’ll be us again.” 

“What if this IS us April?”  I hadn’t intended on having this conversation tonight, but then when do things with April ever go the way I was planning.  But now, I think maybe that’s one of the things I love about her.  I could close my eyes and see my whole future play out with Maggie, or anyone else for that matter.  Predictable and safe.  But with April, it never plays out the way I was expecting it too.  She tells me she loves me in the same sentence she tells me we'll never work.  It's like offering me heaven then telling me it's really hell.  My voice is calm and even, despite the burst of adrenaline her words gave me.  She feels it too, us, and for tonight, I'll consider that a win.

“Jackson,” He voice is soft and mournful, and she sounds so small and sad. 

“I’m not with Maggie anymore.  We ended it.”  That catches her attention, and I can feel her muscles tighten, her sensing sharpening.

“What?  When did that happen?  What in the hell did you do Jackson?  Please don’t tell me you screwed that up!”

“It doesn’t matter when.  It did.  It’s done.  And I’m happy with it.  We’ll talk about you moving later if you insist.  But I’m exhausted, and I have to be back at the hospital in a few hours.”

I am exhausted, and as if to prove my point my body lets out a massive yawn.  April goes to stand up, and I grab her and pull her pack down.  Stretching out on the couch, my feet hit the end where her head was and I settle my head into the other corner, burying myself deep into the cushions.  It’s a big couch, but I don’t want to give her any excuse to say that there isn’t enough room for the both of us.  I give her arm a little tug, making my intentions clear, and she studies me for a minute before making up her mind.   With the tv still on mute showing the sports center highlights reel, she lays down next to me.  Her head is on my arm and her ass is pressed into my lower stomach.  I push one of my legs in between hers and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling the blanket back over both of us and within minutes I’m asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story isn't done. They obviously still have a lot of issues to work out. But we're going to get another Japril Happy Ending. I'm into my busy week at work, so I probably won't get to post again until this weekend. I told my boss that the work that they pay me for is getting in the way of my fan fiction, but they didn't seem to care. On the other hand, I can read/listen to stories all day long while working, so keep the good stuff coming guys!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fun chapter  
> *****smut warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter does have some slight smut it in. It's at the beginning. It's what I would call smut light, but then I'm rather a fan of good smut, so I may not be the best judge lol. Just an fyi to all that it is there.

April -

I don’t know what time I fell asleep for the final time last night.  I never looked at my phone after Jackson came back to the apartment, and he never gave any indication of what time it was besides telling me it was late.  When my alarm goes off at 6:30, I feel like I had barely fallen asleep.  For all I know I did.  I laid on that couch with Jackson wrapped around me for what could have been hours before I finally drifted off to sleep.  It’s never a position I thought I’d assume again.  Ensconced in Jackson’s arms.  He wasn’t kidding when he said he was tired.  Within minutes his breathing deepened and evened out, warm air blowing on the back of my head.  I beg myself to do the same, but while my body was warm and comfortable, my mind refused to be calm.

He’s broken up with Maggie?  But when?  And why?  It couldn’t have been too long ago, because I haven’t seen her come to pick up her stuff that she has here, and I think I would remember if he took it out.  And did he do it because of me?  That thought is terrifying.  And oddly thrilling.  But we can’t do this again.  I’m not sure my heart would survive another trip on the merry go round that is me and Jackson.  We’ve finally gotten to a place where we were happy.  Well he’s been happy.  I’ve been happyish.  With other people.  Happy for each other.  If we tried again, and failed again, I’m not sure my heart would survive it.  But he broke up with Maggie.  And he said we’d talk about me moving out.  My mind is just chasing itself in circles.  I can’t think about it anymore.  I’m going to go insane.  All I can do is enjoy the feel of his arms around me, even if it’s just for tonight, and try to will myself to sleep.

When my alarm goes off, it’s like an electric shock with a poker.  I may have just fallen asleep, but it was a deep sleep and it’s a jar to the system to hear not only the music playing but the sound of the phone vibrating against the table.  Normally my phone is under my pillow, so the sounds and vibrations are muffled.  I’ve turned in my sleep so I’m now facing Jackson, using his chest and shoulder as a sort of pillow.  The arm underneath me is numb and tingling, the arm on top is flung across his neck, and from the feel of it my leg is up and around Jackson's hip.  Jackson is still wrapped tight around me, even more so than last night, with his top leg still wedged between mine and his hand on my ass, and I feel him jerk awake as well.  Waking up like this it’s almost like the past 5 years haven’t happened.  Like I’m back where I belong.  But they did happen, I’m married to another man, and I can’t let myself get pulled back into this again.  I try to pull away so that I can get to the phone on the table top, but Jackson refuses to loosen his grip on me.

“Jackson, let me loose.  I can’t reach the phone.  The noise is killing me.”  Instead of letting me go though he rolls us both over so that he is basically on top of me and grabs my phone himself.  Hitting the button, he drops it on the couch next to us then settles back on top of me.  He lowers himself from his hands and knees to rest his weight on his forearms and there’s barely any space between us now.  The motion of him doing a push up on top of me was nothing short of an act of seduction. My legs and hips automatically spread to accommodate him, and I can feel his morning arousal against me.  It's taking all of my will power not to rub myself against him.  He must have read my mind, or my body, because his face is over come with that cocky little ‘you know you want me smile’ he has, and I just want to kiss it off of his face.  But I can’t.  Because we can’t do this again.  I can’t go down the rabbit hole that is me and Jackson. 

He lowers his head against mine so that he is rubbing his face up against me like a cat, then slowly and deliberately I feel him thrust himself up against me.  Even thru our clothes I can feel how hard he is, and the feel of that slow hard pressure rubbing up against my clit sets my whole body on fire.  The yawn that I felt creeping up my chest becomes a desperate intake of breath as desire shoots through my central nervous system, but I try to use what little brain cells I have left and raise my hands to his chest to give some sort of separation between us.

“Jackson.”  My voice is high and whiny with need instead of firm and resolute like I need it to be.  My body is a traitor, but with Jackson so close we’re sharing air and our chests touching with my rapidly increasing inhales, I guess I can’t really blame it.

“April.”  His voice is deep and firm and is dripping with emotion.  Desire, promise, expectation and a request for my consent.  The way he puts so much into one little word weakens what little resistance I had in my system.

“We can’t do this” I say, but I sound weak, and I know it.  He uses one of his big hands and wraps it around both of my little wrists, then slowly, teasingly moves my hands up over my head and onto the arm of the couch.  He keeps eye contact the entire time, giving me plenty of opportunity to put a stop to this.  But let’s be honest.  I was never really going to put a stop to this.  He noses my neck and I tilt my chin back to give him better access as he wraps his lips onto the part of my neck under my ear that’s always made me go from zero to ready to fire in an instant. 

“Jackson.”   It comes out barely a whisper now, and even to my own ears I can’t tell if I’m pleading for him to stop, or for him to go on forever. 

With a pull of his lips and a flick of his tongue I feel my body reactively buck up into his.  When my core rubs up his length with force, all thoughts of denying myself this go out the window, and I let my body take over instinctively.  I pull my hands out of his weak grip and push them up under his shirt to rake my hands and nails up his back, turning my head to find his lips with my own.  Our first real kiss in years is soul shattering.  I can feel into down to my toes.  I can feel the earth move underneath me.

I never made out with a boy on my couch as a teenager, but I imagine it would be something like this.  Only I’m sure a teenage boy would never be as skilled at this as Jackson is.  He spreads his legs and pulls his knees closer to my ass, using his thighs to angle my hips up and off of the couch some, and his slow and long lazy thrusts become faster and harder.  The hand that was holding my wrists is now supporting his weight on the arm of the couch while the other has come up to wrap into my hair and hold onto my face and neck.   His hands are so big compared to me, and I always loved it when he held my neck.  Not to choke, but to caress and hold.  If we keep this up much longer, I’m going to cum right here on the couch, and I belatedly realize that that’s probably his goal.  It’s been months since I’ve had any kind of sexual intercourse with a man, even longer than that since I had sex with a person who, with _the_ person, who taught me about my own sexual desires, and the pressure is building quickly. 

“Jackson” This time, it comes out hard and tense and is swallowed immediately by his mouth.  He moves the hand from my neck to my breast, pulling over the tightened nipple with his thumb and forefinger, and says, harshly, “Do it.” And that’s all it takes.  I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his back and up on his shoulder blades pulling myself as tight against him as I can and moan my orgasm into his mouth.  Almost immediately after I start to cum, the stupid alarm goes off again, and the shock of it sends additional waves through my body.  Jackson lets out a groan deep in his chest, and I feel his body tense and arch and feel him follow me over the edge. 

Gaining at least some of my brain and body function back, I fumble for the stupid phone next to us and turn it off.  Oh my God.  We totally just dry humped on the couch.  This is something that teenagers do, not people almost in their 40’s.  My alarm has a 12-minute separation from the alarm I set for Harriet.  That’s all it took for me to go to from being determined to put my desire for Jackson out of my mind to becoming a puddle of goo on his couch.  I can feel my wetness dripping down my ass, and I say the first thing that comes to my mind. 

“This is going to be messy.”  That is true, in so many different ways, and it sends me over the edge with a fit of giggles. 

With a groan of my name, Jackson collapsed his weight onto me.  At first, I think he’s embarrassed or upset, but then I feel his chest vibrating and realize he’s laughing. I can’t breathe between my giggles and his weight and give him a hard shove.  He ends up on the floor, laying on his side and laughing so hard he’s got tears streaming down his face.  I think it’s as much a release of tension as it is amusement at what I said.  Wiping the tears of my own laughter from my face, I sit up on the couch and stand over top of him.

“Well, as fun as that was, I have stuff to do today, and a daughter to get ready for school.  I’ll see you later.  And now I’m absolutely leaving tonight.  That was the one and only time.  Consider it getting it out of our system.  It’s not happening again.” As I head up the stairs, I expect to hear some sort of fight from Jackson on the floor, but he quiets for just a moment and then the laughter starts again, slightly more hysterical than before. 

 

I made sure to lock the bathroom door, and my instincts were right, because while I’m putting shampoo into my hair, I hear the door handle rattle and Jackson laughing outside in the hallway.  He doesn’t try to get me to let him in though, and I hurry through my routine.  Due to the unexpected events of this morning, I don’t have time to blow dry my hair after my shower.  I get dressed and run a brush through it, trying to ignore how sensitive my body is suddenly and toss it up onto my head.  Telling myself the flush on my skin is from me maybe getting sick, instead of from Jackson's affect on me, I hurry in to wake Hattie up and get her ready for school.  Hattie is in a mood and dragging her feet and that puts us even farther behind.  Giving up on getting her into her tights and forcing her into a pair of leggings instead I decide to swing thru a drive thru to get her breakfast instead of making something myself.  When we get downstairs though, Jackson is in the kitchen and is pushing a plate of toast in front of Hattie’s seat at the counter.

“Thank You Daddy.  We’re running late today.  Someone didn’t want to get dressed.”  She shoots me a dirty look but accepts assistance to climb into her seat and starts shoving the toast into her mouth.

As I’m pouring coffee into one of the travel mugs sitting on the counter, Jackson comes up behind me and whispers in my ear “worth it.”  Louder he says “Hurry up Hattie.  If you’re ready in five minutes, daddy can walk you to the car.”  That get’s her moving, and she shoves a whole piece of toast in her mouth.  Her cheeks puff out like a chipmunk and she has to hold her hand over her lips to keep the food in, but she slides down off of the barstool and goes in search of her shoes.  We may just make it on time after all.

_

The text messages start before I even make it out of the parking spot.  He got Hattie into her seat in the back of my car then headed over the few spots to where he was parked.  I’m just getting ready to put the car into reverse when my phone goes off.    

Jackson:  Thank you for last night.

I look over and see him pulling out of his spot, like nothing is out of the ordinary.  Even if he does seem less grumpy than usual.  I guess I’ll play along.

April: I didn’t do anything last night

Jackson: It’s the best sleep I’ve had in ages

April:  Then you’re welcome.  You know I aim to please.

Jackson: In that case you succeeded

Oh my goodness.  Jackson is totally flirting with me.  Harriet is telling me to hurry up in the back seat, but I’m not sure that I can drive with these many butterflies in my stomach.  Jackson doesn’t flirt.  Not like this.  He just smolders at you and you drop your panties.  I need to say something back, but what?!

April: Imagine if I really tried. ;)

It’s lame, but it’s the best I can come up with under pressure.

Jackson:  You know I’d never try to tell you what to do

Bullshit.  He’s always trying to tell me what to do.  He’s a lot more like his mother than he wants to admit to sometimes. 

April: Since when?

Jackson: But cancel the hotel

April: You know I can’t do that.

I have no intention of cancelling that hotel.  As good as this may feel this morning, I have to protect my heart.  But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a little flirtation in the meantime.

Jackson: We’ll see J

 

I have a busy day today, and with a smile plastered to my face I drop my phone into the cup holder before I put the car into gear.  I have to spend a few hours at the clinic, then a few hours at the hospital.  There’s only 2 weekdays left before I start work, and I want as much of the administrative parts out of the way so I can manage running the pit straight out of the gate.  After handling dinner for Hattie and Jackson I had planned on collecting my stuff and heading to the Marriott. But now I’m going to spend the rest of the day trying not to think about Jackson and that stupid text.  And that stupid couch.

I’m barely at the clinic before the texts start back up again.

Jackson: You’ve been on my mind a lot today, and it’s only 8am

Oh my god.  I must squeal like a teenaged girl, because every person in this room turns to look at me.  This, this is not like Jackson.  If I didn’t know any better I would think I was being punked.  Maggie must have really worked on his texting game.  Maybe I should check to see if there’s a texting for dummies book on his bookshelves. 

April: I would think as a surgeon you’d have more important things to think about.

Jackson: Think again

April: Go save a life or something.  I at least am trying to work. <3

I can’t resist the heart at the end, just to soften what sounds like me blowing him off.   He doesn’t seem to get the hint though.  Or doesn’t care, because the messages continue.

Jackson: Alex is grumpy today

April: His wife is nine months pregnant. I could see why

Jackson: A week till she’s due, and she’s sitting in her lab.  Alex is going to lose it.

April: Good thing you weren’t like that

Jackson: Oh I was like that.  I just didn’t tell you.

April: Really?

Jackson: Really.  Every time I saw you waddling around the pit I wanted to force you home and onto the couch.  Or preferably into bed. 

April: Ironic really since I had a home birth

I see the bubbles appear and disappear multiple different times before his text finally comes thru.

Jackson: Not funny.   Just for that, now you have to cancel the hotel room.

April: How is that not funny?  It’s been years.  I was trying to be cute.

The bubbles appear immediately, but it takes a while for the text to follow it.

Jackson: I don’t think you realize what that did to me.  To hear you scream but not be able to help you?  To see you intubated and empty on that gurney? I’d never been as afraid for anything in my life.  I could have handled loosing another child.  It would have broken me, again, but I would have survived.  I won’t survive losing you.  And yet you continually put me in the position where I might have to.  It’s not a funny joke.  If you want to joke about almost dying, do it with Mer.

Wow.  I mean wow.  The air is pushed from my lungs and I’m forced to sit at my desk.  I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut.  I don’t think he’s ever said anything like that to me before.  It’s both sobering and humbling.  I’d give anything not to have to go through what we went through with Samuel again.  I was willing to do anything to make sure that Jackson didn’t have to go through that again.  But I guess I never really did stop before or afterwards to think about what that must have been like for Jackson. Thinking about it, if I were in Jacksons shoes and it came down to Jackson’s life or the unborn baby, I probably would have picked Jackson.  But he never gave any indication that he was more upset than he would have been if it was any of our friends on that kitchen table though.  Never gave any indication that it was me he was upset over losing, and not Harriet’s mother. But he couldn’t be any clearer now.

April: I’m so sorry Jackson.  I didn’t mean to upset you.  I didn’t know.  Just imagine I’m giving you a hug.

Jackson: Didn’t know what?  That you’re the most important person in my life?  Then remember it from here on out.  You are.

I don’t know what to say to this.  This has gotten way too deep way too fast.  I can feel myself on the verge of hyperventilating.  Where is all of this coming from all of a sudden?  Is he having delayed PTSD from the shooting?  The bubbles appear again before I have a chance to say anything back.

Jackson: And you can give me a hug yourself.  When you cancel the stupid hotel room.

Exhaling my breath on a strained chuckle, I reply back with the only thing I can think of.

April: Maybe.  And Jackson, you’re my person too.

 

The next few hours are uneventful as I finish up my paperwork at the clinic and get everything ready for the person that has taken over for me full time.  They started this week and are doing great.  I’m still going to be working on a volunteer basis, but I won’t have a desk or have to handle the administrative side of things anymore.  I’m going to miss working at the clinic on a regular basis.  It was good for me at a time where I felt like nothing outside of Harriet would ever be good again.  But surgery is where I belong, and I’m at peace about moving on.

It’s coming up on noon, and if I want to be able to pick Harriet up on time today, I need to get heading to the Hospital.

 

 

Jackson –

Its liposuction day, and I hate it.  I know I’m a plastic surgeon, and it’s a core part of what most plastic surgeons do, but it’s one of my least favorite things.  I wouldn’t do it at all except for my department is one of the few that has so many easy income generating procedures, and this is one of them.  If I want to build faces pro-bono, then I have to suck fat for cash.  It’s mindless brain numbing work.  The only good thing is it does allow my mind to wander, and boy do I have things to wander to.

I can’t believe what happened this morning.  It’s embarrassing and unbecoming and I loved every freaking second of it.  Watching April freak out afterwards and say it was the last time was just the icing on the cake.  She’s mine, and she doesn’t even know it yet.  We can play this game if she wants to, for a little while, but I’m not waiting until she’s standing up at the alter with someone else before I make my move again.  The first time, all those years ago, I thought we were too young, and she’d hurt me with that mouth of hers that runs away before her brain catches up.  I wasn’t ready, or so I thought, until I was staring down the barrel of losing her forever.  The last time, well ok, that was on me.  But now that I have my chance again, I’m not wasting it.  I’ll deal with the fallout later. 

Checking my phone after my scrub out, I’m bummed to see that April hasn’t texted me since our last interaction.  I don’t know what her plans are for today, since we haven’t had a chance to really talk in a few days, and I want to know what she’s doing.   I like knowing where she’s at at any given moment in time.  Not because I’m a controlling asshole like Matthew apparently was, but just because it makes me feel good that she loves me enough to tell me about her day. 

The text messages this morning had been a stroke of genius on my part.  I thought of it in the elevator on the way down to the garage.  Things with April work best when we’re brutally honest with each other.  Assuming we know what the other is thinking, or that the other knows how we’re feeling, has only gotten us into trouble in the past.  So I decided I need to make sure she knows what I’m thinking.  And what I’m thinking is I need her in my life, in my house, and preferably in my bed.  Though the couch will work for the time being.   

When I sent the first one, I was watching for her reaction out of my rearview mirror, and she didn’t disappoint me at all.  My phone automatically syncs to my car via the Bluetooth, so I was able to keep sending her texts even while driving to work.  I purposefully didn’t mention this morning.  I can’t  risk her thinking that I’m only interested in sex or using that as an excuse for either of us to run away again.

A small part of me warns that I should really pull it back some, cool it down.  I only broke up with Maggie yesterday, and technically April is still married.  But I’m afraid that if I don’t move fast, I’ll miss my chance.  I’m deathly afraid that if I let her leave my house, I won’t be able to get her back in it again.

When she tried to joke about having a home birth, it felt like an icicle had been shot thru my heart.  Is it possible she really doesn't know what she means to me?  That's my fault.  That's one of those moments that if I would have handled it differently, we wouldn't be here right now.  We'd be living in the house in the suburbs with 2.5 kids by now.  I should have made sure she knew the minute she woke up up after that delivery what she meant to me.  That if she died, I would have died too.

Liposuction procedures are done in the outpatient surgery section of the hospital, so I haven’t seen anybody today outside of Alex and my resident and intern.  I think the only reason he sought me out is because if he complained to Mer about Jo still working everyday with her due date so close to hand, Mer is likely to hit him.  And then Alex being Alex, he’d have to bring up what happened to her when she worked all the way up until she gave birth, and poor Alex would end up losing his main support system seconds before his wife was due to give birth.  Or Jo would lose her husband because Mer put him into the hospital.  Either way, him complaining to the girls wouldn’t work out well for him.  Come to think of it, I can’t think of one Grey Sloan Dr’s whose birth went the way it was supposed to.  Maybe Jo has the right idea by staying at the hospital.

As I walk towards my office, I pull my phone out again and send April another text.

Jackson: Done for the morning.  What are you doing?

It takes mere seconds to get a response back from her.  I wonder if she was waiting for me?

April: Talking with Teddy and Owen about this year’s interns.  Did you need something?

Jackson: Where?

April: Where do you think Jackson?  In my office.  I’m busy.  Go bother someone else <3

I can’t help but notice that’s the second heart she’s sent me today. So she’s here in the hospital, is she?  With a quick glance at the time to see I have over an hour until I have to meet with my next pre-op, I turn on my heel and head to the elevators.  Three minutes later I’m leaning in the door of her office, arms over my chest and legs crossed at the ankles.

“Avery?  Did you need something?”  Teddy looks at me with irritation in her voice, but Owen gives me a knowing smile.

“No” says April, sounding resigned.  “He’s suffering from a touch of ptsd I think.  Or as I like to refer to it in my head, a case of OCD Where’s April syndrome.  Ever since the shooting he has this fetish about knowing where I’m at.  He wouldn’t even let me go pee by myself for days after the shooting.  It was endearing at first. Now it’s getting annoying.”  Where’s April Syndrome?  There was definitely some annoyance in her tone, but there was a decent amount of amusement in it too.  I decide to push my luck.

“Well, seeing as the last time you wondered thru our doors without prior warning, it was in an ambulance and with a gunshot wound, I think I can be excused for liking to know your whereabouts.  To make it even, I’d be happy to let you know mine 24/7.  Maybe we should join phone plans again and you can use the GPS locator.”

I see Owen and Teddy looking between us and each other out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t turn my attention away from April.

“How about you just shoot me with a tracking dart and be done with it.”

Giving her a smirk, I reply “Nah, no need to mar that beautiful skin more than it already has been.  A simple rundown of the days activities should be enough, thank you.”

“Wait, are you two living together again?”

“Yes”  

“No”

We both answer simultaneously, trying to beat the other to the quick, I think.  I just lift my eyebrow at her and smile wider.

“Umm, I think I have a page.  Teddy, didn’t you have a patient you needed to check in on?”

“Yes.  Yes, I did.  Actually, I wanted to go say hi to the kids in daycare?  Want to join me?”

“Excellent idea.”  With one last glance between the two of us, I go into the office to take over one of the chairs they just vacated, and they leave whispering to themselves. 

“Dammit Jackson, you can’t just do that!”

“What?”  She gets up from her desk and walks around to shut her office door.  I get my hopes up for just a second, thinking maybe she’s shutting the door so that we could get better reacquainted in the hospital, but its quickly apparent she shut it just to better yell at me in private.  All the blinds are still open into the room.

“Brazenly flirt with me in front of people like that.” 

“Come on, it’s just Teddy and Owen.  If anybody knows about being in love with your best friend, its those two.  Besides, Owen is the least gossipy person I know, and he loves you like a daughter, or a sister.  If he hears one person talking about you in a way that he feels is inappropriate he’ll shut it down so fast their heads will spin.  Or their heads really will spin because he’ll punch them. His temper hasn’t improved since the Link and Amelia thing.  And you flirted right back thank you very much.”

“But Teddy works with Maggie.  And you still haven’t told me what happened there.  And Love?  Who said we’re in love?  You’re.  It’s just.  You’re.”  Her rambling has turned into stupefied stuttering, and it’s maybe the best reaction I could have asked for.  I know I’ve won this round.  Her hands are gesticulating at her sides, and it’s all just so damn cute its almost unbearable.  April will fight a person with the very last breath in her body when she thinks she’s right.  When she stops, you know you’ve got her.  And she didn’t put up any hardly fight at all did she?   I better get while the getting’s good. I stand up from the chair and pull my phone from my pocket.

“Fine, I’m leaving.  I’ll call mom, see if she wants Hattie tonight.  She’s heading back to Boston next week anyways, so I know she’ll want to see her.  Wait for me, I should be done by 6.  Feel free to visit me upstairs.  It’s Lipo day.”

Resisting the urge to kiss the bewildered look off of her face, I dial my mom and head out of her office.  Before I hit the surgery floor, I send her one more text.

Jackson: Mom will pick H up from school.  Go find a surgery to scrub in on, you’ll feel better.  See you tonight.

I pocket my phone before she can respond and get ready for my next procedure.  I have the rest of the afternoon to plan out my next attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much more respect now for professional and amateur writers than I did before I started writing these stories. Thank you for hanging in there with me guys. I'm sorry the chapters aren't coming as fast as they were at the beginning, but the story has changed from where I thought it was going to end, and I think I have a pretty long story to tell now, so I hope you stick with me until the end.
> 
> Thanks so much!
> 
> As always, let me know if you see any mistakes or continuity errors.


	13. All our cards on the table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the chapter title says it call

April-

In the end, I did what Jackson wanted. Because in the end, don’t I always? I cancelled the stupid hotel room and fought with them over the cancellation fee. Yes it’s within 24 hours but I only booked it within 24 hours so I don’t think that it should count. And I can’t complain to Jackson about it because he’ll just remind me, again, that he can afford it and that will only make me more irritated. He may be rich, but I am not. And even if I was, I’m not going to stay that way by paying ridiculous hotel cancellation fees.

I figure now is as good a time as any to really get back to work. My contract is signed, my salary is set. It’s not going to matter if I start today or Monday. Heading upstairs to the lounge, it brings a smile to my face to see that they gave me my same locker back. I have a hard time believing that it’s been empty for this long so I wonder who they kicked to give me my original one back. It’s nice to see my name in between Grey and Avery again. I change into a pair of scrubs and grab my coat that’s already hanging in my locker for me.

I don’t talk to Teddy or Owen before I grab a patient chart, just jump right back in like I’d never left. It’s my department now anyways. That stops me for a minute. The ER is mine, and the title on my lap coat confirms it. I’m not just running it on behalf of another person anymore. Chief. It’s ironic, really, that I was named Chief resident, and yet I was the only one of our resident class that didn’t run their own department.   Hell, I’m the only one who doesn’t run the hospital. And still, as head of the ER, my position is different than theirs. Theirs is all surgery all the time, unless they are doing research. I’ve barely done any research. I probably never will. I’m a hands-on physician in ways that the others aren’t, treating everything from the common cold to a penetrating trauma. But I’ve done several papers on trauma protocols and maybe I should talk to Alex and Jackson about running some sort of trial on emergency medicine.

I get my first trauma at the same time we get a probable appy so I page for a Gen Surg consult and handle the trauma myself. MVC, obvious cuts and abrasions. Bleeding in the belly. Just need to wait for the rush labs and up to the OR he goes. But to my surprise, instead of Mer, I get both Bailey and Webber into the pit, trailing a team of residents and interns. I excuse myself from the patient, telling the nurse to call me if anything changes, and head into the pit to meet them halfway.

“Where’s Mer?”

“What’s wrong with us? Dr. Webber and I aren’t good enough for you?” Despite the fact that she was trying to be, well she was trying to be Bailey, her brash tone brings a smile to my face. It’s so good to be back.

“Of course, you are. I just wasn’t expecting both of you that’s all. Bed 4 has a probably appy. Micha here was in an MVC, bleeding in his belly. Labs have been run and pain meds given. We’re just waiting on the cross and match. If you don’t mind, I’d actually prefer to take the appy upstairs instead of the mvc. Both are cases for General, but it’s been a while since I performed an appy and would like to get my feet wet. Basics and all that.”

“Good to have you back Kepner. That’s what we’ve been missing around here. Someone concerned with making sure we’re built on a firm foundation. I’ll take the MVC.” With that, Webber pats me on the back and heads back into the trauma room to introduce himself to the patient.

“I guess that leaves you and me with the appy.”

“Both of us? It’s hardly a procedure that takes two attending’s.”

“So, it’s just me you have a problem with and not Dr. Webber huh?” If she’s trying to make me feel like an intern, she’s succeeding. But I hear Catherine in my head laughing at me telling me to not let her see me sweat, and I rally.

“Dr. Bailey, would you care to join me with this patient? As it has been some time since I performed an appendectomy, I would love some pointers from the master.”

“That’s more like it.” She says and I follow her into the patient’s room. Less than an hour later we’re scrubbed and doing a laparoscopic appendectomy together. It was smart of me to take the smaller of the surgeries. As backwards as it sounds, I worry about the easier procedures more than I do the harder ones. I’ve watched hundreds of hours of tapes and done continuing education credits for trauma certifications over the last few years, but I can’t remember the last time I thought about something as simple as an appy.  Dr. Webber is right in that regard, the basics are often over looked by established surgeons once we pick our specialties.

I’m concentrating on what I’m doing, and trying not to embarrass myself in front of Dr. Bailey, and so I almost miss it when she starts talking halfway through the procedure about something other than laparoscopic techniques.

“I hear that you and Matthew are getting divorced.”

“Wow, word travels fast.”

“You should know that by now. You can sneeze on floor 4 and the interns will know about it on floor 3 by the end of the day. “

“Yes well, it’s not something I’m particularly proud of. I would never imagined 10 years ago that I would be a 2 time divorcee. But Matthew and I couldn’t see eye to eye about where I wanted my career to go, and well…”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I get it. That’s why my first marriage ended, because he couldn’t handle his wife being a surgeon. Men are weak. Notice the ladies well outnumber the men in this hospital? That’s because men are weak, and in turn they can’t handle it when we aren’t. Next time, make sure the man you marry can handle a strong woman. I recommend a nurse.” There’s a smirk in her voice, and I immediately flash to her fling with Nurse Eli. I’d forgotten all about that. I look quickly around to see if she’d upset any of the nurses in here with us, but they all wore the same knowing expression under their masks as she did. And I do notice that outside of the intern, who looks noticeably uncomfortable, every other person in this room is in fact a woman.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I think I’m done with all of that. 1 failed marriage? Well maybe that could have been chalked up to, to what happened to us. But 2 failed marriages? The only common denominator there is me. I think I’ve proven that I’m not cut out for wedded bliss.”

“Who’s talking about wedded bliss? I’m talking about spending a little time with another human being. Outside of this hospital of course. I don’t want your extracurricular activities in the on call rooms.” Funny coming from Booty Call Bailey, but best to keep that thought to myself.

When my pager goes off, one of the scrub nurses whose name I don’t know asks me if I want her to read it out for me. With the way my texts have been today, I’d better not.

“If you could just check it for me that would be great. Unless it says something about my daughter Harriet we can ignore it. The passcode is 9721.” She picks it up off of the tray where all our phones sit and reads the message.

“It does mention Harriet Dr. Kepner. Or Hattie. Is that her?”

“What’s it say?”

“It’s from Dr. Avery I think. It says ‘Mom wants Hattie for the night. She will take her to school tomorrow. Last surgery cancelled. I’ll meet you in the lounge. It’s nice to see your name on the board again.’”

Great. Nice to see my name? Just yesterday he was giving me a hard time for coming in. I feel the blush color my skin but I’m not really sure why. There was nothing inappropriate about the message. We do share a daughter after all. It makes sense for me to get a message about her whereabouts for the evening. The only thing that could be considered weird is the fact that he said he’d be waiting for me. Avoiding Bailey’s eyes, which are now watching me with interest, I ask the nurse if she’ll text Jackson back to tell him I have my own car and that I will just see him later.

“Speaking of Dr. Avery, the twisted sisters all called in sick today. Karev said that they had a family issue that they needed to take care of. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?”

“What? No. Are they ok?” The look of shock on my feature’s and voice are genuine, and all I get from her is scoff filled ‘Mmm Hmmm’ before she starts talking to the intern about the procedure again. We’re almost done. Just a few more minutes until we pull the instruments out and let the resident glue up the incisions.

All three sisters stayed home today? Could that mean that Jackson just now broke up with Maggie. Was that what kept him out so late last night? I can’t let the distress of that show on my face. Despite the fact that she likes to show this tough gruff exterior, Bailey is one of the biggest gossip hounds in the place. If she senses my discomfort, she’ll be on me like a dog with a bone.

After giving post op instructions to the resident in charge, I pull my scrub cap on and fall into step besides Bailey. It’s the one that Jackson gave to me on the day of the shooting as I still haven’t gotten all of mine out of storage yet. I’ll have to add that to my list for this weekend.

“Are you going to come in tomorrow too? I know you weren’t supposed to be on the schedule until next week but I’ve seen your name on the surgery board twice now.”

“I don’t know to be honest. Both days I came in to get a handle on the paperwork side of things so that I could jump right into the medicine when I started back full time, and both times I got sucked into a surgery.”

“Well, it is good to have you back. Just don’t jump in over your head.”

And that I think is as close to an I missed you as I’m going to get I think.

“Thanks Chief.” The title got me a nod of approval, and we parted ways as she went off to do whatever, and I headed towards the attending’s lounge.

 

Jackson is sitting there, just like he said he’d be, nose buried in his phone. He looks up and smiles at me when I come in, but doesn’t try to engage me in conversation. I’m relieved. I wish he’d just gone home like I asked him to. I’m so twisted up over what is going on in his head. I can’t do this again. I really cannot do this again.

“Jackson, what are you doing? I have my own car here. I have my own keys to your apartment. I’m more than capable of finding my way home. Besides, I had plans for tonight. You know that. Now that Mom has Hattie that just makes it even easier for me.”

The smile falls from Jacksons face and he takes his hands and scrubs them over it, and I hate to see that, but I have to protect myself. I don’t know how I let him talk me into cancelling my reservation, but that’s exactly where I’m headed as soon as I get my stuff from his place.

“Look. We have the evening to ourselves. Just give me tonight. Let’s get some Chinese, open a beer, and if you still want to after we talk, you can move to the hotel. One evening. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“Talk?” I hate the fact that he can affect me this way. Already I can feel the butterflies in my belly and my pulse kicking up a notch. He’s nodding his head at my question, and stands up to grab his bag.

“Talk. Chinese ok? I’ll meet you at home. Open a beer for me if you beat me there.” He steps up into my personal space and places a kiss on my forehead, and I hate the fact that my eyes close automatically in response to his touch. He’s out the door before I have a chance to say anything else.

One dinner. I can handle that. Then I’m outta there.

I swing by my office on the way out of the building and see my in box is already starting to fill with vacation requests and supply forms for signatures. It’s comforting, in a way. No matter what sort of turmoil is going on in your life, the paperwork is one thing that will never change.

 

 

Jackson –

“Tell me what happened with you and Matthew?”

We’re sitting in the kitchen, at the big island countertop in the kitchen where we eat almost every meal, but it’s different now with just the two of us here. We’re chit chatting while eating our food, talking about what happened today at the hospital, but our thoughts are mostly in our own heads. There’s a tension vibrating between us that I can’t quite pinpoint. I know what’s on my side. Nerves, excitement, fear, desire. I knew that Harriet acted as a kind of buffer between us more and more lately, but I didn’t realize to what extent until she wasn’t here. It’s practically sparking in here. It doesn’t help that memories from this morning keep trying to push to the front of my mind. And I can tell that asking her about Matthew is not where she thought this evening was heading.

“What do you mean what happened? You were there. You saw what happened.”

“No, I saw the end result of what happened. The fallout as it were. The April I know, MY April, would never have laid down and played dead like you did. You would have torn into him and defended yourself to the brink, just like you have every single time I’ve tried to tell you how incredibly mad I am at you for your actions that day. See, already you’re getting ready to fight back.”

And she is getting upset. Her color has increased and I see the fire lit behind her eyes. But then she gives herself a little shake, and seems to settle back into her skin some. I take a bite of my food, and indicate for her to go on. We have all night to sit here if that’s what it takes.

“Well, it’s nothing big if that’s what you’re thinking. He didn’t neglect me or abuse me.” The thought of abuse hadn’t even entered my mind, and now that she’s mentioned it, it sends a spark of anger thru me. If he had hurt her, I’d kill him with my bare hands. Or maybe take Karev and Hunt with me.

“You knew that before we were going to get married the first time we took pre-marriage counseling through our church right?” I nod in acknowledgement, barely remembering her mentioning it before.

“When we took that test, it told us that we had a 98 percent compatibility rating, or something like that. At the time, I thought that that was fantastic. We were perfect for each other. We had the same faith, we wanted the same things out of life. Little did I know how wrong that was. Wrong maybe isn’t the right word, but boring is the only other word I can think of, and that doesn’t sound right either. Bland. Everything with Matthew was bland. But that wasn’t it. A lot of people live bland lives.” She takes a swig of her beer and I do the same, giving her a chance to get her thoughts in order.

“I knew, almost instantly, that I had made a mistake. We had both changed since that test was done. Both of us thought that we’d changed for the better, become stronger people. But we weren’t those same people who took that compatibility test all those years ago. And those changes we’d been through, they were good for ourselves, but not for each other. I’d traumatized him, leaving him at the alter like that. He needed bland. He’d had a docile housewife, and wanted one again. And more and more I found myself craving fire and passion. The only other relationship that I’d ever really had” and here she points a finger between me and her, “We were a lot of things, but bland was never one of them.” I can’t help the laugh that escapes me at that. Truer words were never spoken.

“Our views of religion had changed. I’ve fought hard for my relationship with God. Feeling His presence with me in my life, it was a choice that I made every day now. After everything that I’ve been thru, I made a choice to walk with God. And Matthew just took it for granted. He wanted to move to be closer to his family, and to be honest, to get away from the memories of you and us. And I can’t blame him for that, not really. But there was no way that I could have ever done that. I knew that the memories of you and me haunted him, but I got tired of telling him over and over that I was in his bed now. I know that I’d said that we knew each other’s pain, and that brought us back together. But come to find out, we had two completely separate sort of aches. He, he lost his wife in the process of bringing his daughter into the world. And that’s a pain that’s hard to recover from. He’d loved her more than he loved me, and that’s alright. I was ok with that, because I knew that I was here and she wasn’t, god bless her. But I lost a son, and in the process of that I also lost my husband. And always in his mind I think, he knew that my husband was still out there.”

I start to protest, to apologize, to say something that eases the sad smile on her face, but she puts her hand up to stop me. I feel forlorn and naked hearing her talk so plainly about what happened to us after Samuel died. After all of this time, I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it like this.

“It’s ok Jackson. It is. And it’s the truth. We lost Samuel, and because of that we lost each other. I think after all of these years we’ve made peace with that. Or at least I hope we have. We both spent too long blaming each other. And you’re right again about the divorce thing. I still believe in the sanctity of marriage. But I never regretted marrying you. I don’t even regret the way it happened, not really. I’ve regretted marrying Matthew almost from the minute I did it. I did fight you kicking and screaming. Since we’re laying it all out on the table, the thought of divorcing you still makes me cringe. A tiny part of me will always hate you for making me do that. But Matthew, Matthew isn’t you.”

“A more than tiny part of me will always hate myself too.”

I reach my hand out across the counter from her and she takes it in her own, giving it a hard squeeze. She’s got a slight case of the sniffles, and I release her hand to catch a tear slipping down her face. After clearing her throat she starts the conversation again.

“So, what happened with Maggie?” That’s simple I think.

“She wasn’t you.”

“Jackson” She sounds exasperated with me, and I guess she has a point. She did just bare her soul to me.

“What happened to me and Maggie goes back way before there even was a me and Maggie. And that’s my fault. You know I’m not very good at talking about my feelings. Hell, I’m not very good at identifying the feelings I’m having.” She gives me a small smile, and I know she feels the truth of my words. In an echo of my thoughts from just minutes before she says “We have all night.”

I swallow the rest of my beer down then get up to get us both another.

“Liquid courage.” I say, popping the tops off of the bottles and handing hers to her. We clink the bottles together, and I take another long draw before I sit back down and tell my truth, like Amelia would say.

“I never talked to you about the night that Harriet was born.” I can see the surprise on her face and imagine it must look a lot like it did when I mentioned it this morning while we were texting.

“I don’t remember what I was doing before Bailey found me, but I remember the panic and excitement coursing through my system when Bailey told me that you were in labor, and that you were stuck at Mer’s house. But then she told me about your plan to ride it out there, and what Ben had felt when he examined you and the excitement turned to fear so quickly I felt sick to my stomach.

When we caught up to Arizona, she was giving Ben instructions on what he should see when he opened you up. Opened you up April. Right there on the fucking dining room table. The same table, I may add, that we’ve eaten at countless times before and since then. For the longest time after that I wanted to take a sledge hammer to it.” I take another slug of my beer, but it’s coming easier now. I should have talked to her about this years ago.

“I love Harriet. She’s our flesh and our blood, our love made real. But at that time, she was just an abstract thought, a possibility and not reality. She didn’t even have a name. And I’m stuck in that stupid hospital, listening you talking Ben into doing this horrible thing to you. To save the baby, and to let you die.” I close my eyes and the memory plays before my eyes.

“I was light headed and dizzy, the world was spinning around me. And all I could think of is we can have more children, we’ve proven that over and over again. But I love you. I love you and I love you and I hear you telling Ben to let you die. When you let out that scream. Oh God. It wasn’t even a scream really. The sound you made when your flesh was torn. It was horrific. I still have nightmares about it April. And then it went silent. And all of a sudden I’m begging for the screaming to start again because at least I know that you’re alive that way. I heard the baby cry at the same time we heard the ambulance pulling up outside the house. And for just a short moment, I hated that little girl like I’d never hated anything in my life. One day I’ll ask her forgiveness for that.

Bailey and I were waiting outside when the ambulance showed up. You were on the gurney, intubated and open. Empty when the last time I saw you, you were filled with life. And still I could do nothing to help you except push that damn gurney as fast as my legs could carry me. Arizona was already scrubbed and waiting for you. I tried to come in, but they kicked me out of course. So all I could do is pace outside of the OR doors. I didn’t see Harriet until much later. Ben brought me Hattie, after he’d had her checked out by peds.” While telling her this, I’ve been looking down at the table, at my bottle, anywhere really but her. I finally look up into her eyes.

“I should have told you then. But I’d hurt you so much with the divorce, and the custody stuff. And I remember what you said about not wanting to be with me because of the baby, so I didn’t say anything. I was afraid that you would think it was just because of the baby. Then, after a few days and everything had settled down, I convinced myself that it was just a reaction to a high stress situation. That of course I love you, you’re Harriet’s mother, but we weren’t together anymore, and I wasn’t supposed to have feelings for you like that anymore. And then, well everything else happened.” I can’t read her expression.” It’s guarded and sad, but maybe just slightly hopeful as well. All I can do is power on.

“It was really after the car accident that things fell into place, or fell apart for me, depending on how you look at it. Once again, there you were on that table. Except this time, you were dead. I don’t care how you want to rationalize it in your mind April, what kind of science and medicine you want to use to gloss it over, but the fact remains that you were dead. No pulse, no brain activity. Only this time it was worse. If you had died giving birth to Harriet, at least I could try to rationalize it that you had given your life for hers. And what parent wouldn’t give their life for their child’s. But this was just so pointless. So senseless. And hours, you’d been gone for hours at this point. They had to restrain me in the OR, did anybody ever tell you that?”

She’s got tears slowly streaming down her face by this point, and she doesn’t attempt to answer me with words, just shakes her head.

“I found out in the hallway. I was in the process of heading into surgery when they’d found you, and so they didn’t tell me. Bastards. If we were together as we should have been, I’d have known something was wrong straight off. I knew you were volunteering, but it didn’t raise any red flags when Mer came asking me if I knew where you were at. I should have known. If I’d had known where and who you were with, you wouldn’t have laid in that creek for as long as you did. You’d have called me before you called the ambulance, and I would have already had been on my way to you by then.

I’m getting off point. Wilson and I had just left our OR, and we heard the intern saying that he needed all the blood for you, that you were dying now and that they could go get more blood for the later surgeries. When I barged in, half of the OR floor was squeezed into that room. Maggie had just told them to stop compressions, and I thought that she had just signed your death certificate. I started yelling and pushing my way too you. I may have punched another intern, or maybe it was Alex, I’m not sure. They told me that they had put you on bypass and so all I could do, again, was sit by your side and wait. Every hit of the paddles against your skin when they were bringing you back into v-tach I felt in my own body. At one point I flung myself across you to get them to stop. I couldn’t stand to see you treated to such violence when it was obvious that you were gone, but Mer and Alex pulled me off and held me still while they hit you with the electricity again and again.”

At this she pushes up from her chair and comes to me. I know her better than I know myself. She’s never been able to see me hurting without offering comfort, and I gladly open my arms for her as she settles herself onto my lap and into my arms. It’s easier like this I think. Talking about her dying when I feel her warm and strong in my arms is easier to handle.

“I didn’t know at that time that you’d been seeing Matthew. And when Arizona made that accoucement, I felt all the air leave my lungs again. If I’d been standing, I’d have probably fallen. How could you have been seeing someone else when you were supposed to be mine? Holding your hand, begging and praying for you to wake up. All I could think about was that I love you. That I couldn’t lose my person, my other half. I love you so much I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in to please bring you back to me, and like magic, you opened your eyes. I should have climbed into the bed with you right then and refused to leave your side ever again. But Arizona said that you were in love, and I love you enough not to mess that up for you again.”

Sitting on my lap makes her much taller next to me than she normally is, and I can easily lay my head against her chest and shoulder. She’s running her fingers through my curls, longer, I think, then when we were ever together like this, and the touch is soothing to both the body and the mind.

“That’s really why I went on my God quest.”

“God Quest?” I can hear her amusement in her voice and it brings some to my own.

“That’s what Maggie called it. You remember when I left for those few weeks after you got married.”

“I do. It was nice, talking to you like that again. Like we were best friends. I missed you”

“And that was it. Twice in my life I had prayed to God. Twice, for or about you. And both times, my prayers were answered. How could I not believe in God after that? But how could I believe in that same God who so obviously meant for us to be together, yet has you happy with another man? So I left. I left, and I tried to make peace with the fact that maybe some mythical being that effected our lives really did exist, and I tried to make peace with the fact that you were never to be in my arms again. And I realized that there were different types of love, and you were the love of my life. But I loved Maggie too, and I could be happy with her too.”

“Settling” I hear her say as if to herself, and it’s the perfect description of what we’ve both been doing these last few years.

“But then April, mother of my children and my own personal soul mate walks into my hospital covered in blood. And 24 hours later leaves her husband all from the comfort of my living room couch and I have to say ok God, I get the hint. I’m sorry it took me so long. That, and Meredith told me to get my head out of my ass. And that’s what happened with Maggie.”

She wraps both of her hands around my face and pulls my head up to look at her. It’s such a familiar touch that it makes me melt some. All of the nerves are gone, and I feel absolute peace for the first time in ages.

“Jackson Avery, are you trying to tell me that you think that God wants us to be together?”

“Yea, I guess I am.” And with that she kisses me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that this was my story, and I was going to do with it what I wanted lol. I tried to put every missed opportunity and missed conversation into this chapter. I hope I didn't go too far overboard.


	14. The reckoning, version 1, rated M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April and Jackson try to come to grips with their new relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did 2 separate versions of this chapter. One copy, this copy, is rated M. Slight smut, but nothing too graphic. The other copy, is as E as it gets and is basically pure porn :) Enjoy whichever floats your boats.

April –

 

I can’t tell whether he’s breaking my heart or putting it back together.  He starts out shaky, stopping and starting.  But by the end of his tale he sounds almost serene.  These are the facts, his voice says.  This is my truth, and my truth is that I love you.  There are tears dripping down my face, but I make no move to prevent or hide them.  I think back to that day with the accident.  Waking up to seeing him crying over me, holding my hand so tight it was almost painful.  How warm his hands were against my smaller one.  I’d been hearing him for a while I think, without really processing what was going on.  When I came too enough to realize what I was hearing, the anguish and tears laced through his words, I wanted nothing more than to pull him into my arms and make his pain go away.  I’ve always secretly thought that I woke up, not just because of everything my friends and family did to bring me back, but because I can’t be that close to Jackson and not respond to his words.  He told me to come back to him, and I did.  I’m embarrassed to admit that it wasn’t until much later that I even thought about Matthew.  If he’d told me then what he’s telling me now, our lives would be so much different today. 

When I wrap my hands around his face, the feel of his beard is both scratchy and soft in my palms, and I itch to run my fingers through it.  Trying not to kiss him right now would be like trying not to breathe, you can only hold out so long before it becomes impossible.  Better to succumb right away before you end up on the floor panting.  The passion and electricity that’s always between us is there, but this time it seems to be tempered with something else.  Our kiss is slow and deep, drinking from a well long covered but never emptied, and I think his arms around my back are the only thing keeping me from falling to pieces. 

When I feel the need to either separate or intensify the situation, I slip off of his lap and stand between his legs instead.  Standing while he’s sitting like this, we’re almost the same height, and I rest my forehead against his, trying to gather my thoughts. 

Everything I’d ever dreamt of hearing from him, and here he is, saying it all and more.  But it’s been years since I’ve had that dream.  And mistake or not, the truth of the matter is that I am married to another man.  I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do with this information.   It feels almost too little too late.  I really need some time to process what he’s saying.  To come to grips with what’s happening between us again.

“Jackson.  I, I don’t know what you want from me.”

He tightens his grip around my waist, trying to preemptively prevent me from running I think.  One of the benefits and pitfalls of knowing a person as intimately as we know each other.  How’s a girl supposed to have a good old fashioned freak out when the boy comes prepared to shut it down before it happens?  Instead, he simply says, “Everything, I want everything from you April.  But for tonight, I’ll be happy with you just not leaving.”

Finally giving into my desires, I run my finger nails gently through his beard.  I love the way his eyes close in pleasure at the sensation.  I read a paper once, about the psychology behind Touch Hunger. It’s not just sex, though it often manifests itself that way, but the human body craves touch, skin on skin contact.  Some people get so starved for it that they will accept inappropriate touching just to satisfy the craving.  Children given regular physical affection while growing up are proven to have lower aggression levels and higher test scores.  Regular physical contact from a person you love, from everything as simple as a hug and handholding, is proven to reduce your heart rate and blood pressure, your brain activity increases and your stress levels reduce.  I wander if he’s been as hungry for my touch these past few years as I have been for his, but I think the obvious answer to that is yes.  It’s just going to take me some time to wrap my head around this.

“I already cancelled my hotel reservations.  This afternoon, almost as soon as you left my office.”  His answering smile is both smug and beautiful, and I can’t help but respond with a smile of my own.

“Thank you.  Although, I was thinking about our track record in hotels.  If you’d had tried to go, I would have just followed you there.”

He tightens his grip on my hips and pulls me in tight against him, placing gentle kisses on the parts of my hand and arm he can reach by simply moving his face.  I take my hands off of his face and move them to the back of his head and neck, raking my nails there the way I know he likes it, with more force and purpose to my motions.  His kisses move to my neck as well, and I let a little hmmmm escape from between my lips.

“Funny, I was just thinking about our track record in kitchens.”  And that is what I think finally breaks the dam.  His motions become tight and firm instead of soft and languid, and the intensity levels radiating from his person are enough to set my entire body on edge.

He stands up abruptly, the force of his motions pushing the barstool over onto its side.  Squatting slightly to wrap his hands around my thighs, he picks me up and places me on the counter top, all thoughts of our earlier food and drinks forgotten.

It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this.  Rough and with purpose.  My whole body is tingling and on fire.  He’s always known me better than I know myself.  He can read my body’s wants and needs better than I could ever dictate them to him with words.

He wraps his hand in my hair and pulls my head back to look at him.  The sting of the force of his actions makes my toes curl, and the eye contact that he gives me is more intimate than the actual act of sex, and I feel it down to my core.  The tension is coiling in my belly as if he’s been rubbing on my clit for hours rather than just looking me in the eye.

I feel like I’m drunk, gloriously loose, even though I’ve barely had a drop of alcohol.  It’s purely my bodies reaction to his.  It’s been this way between us since the first time I kissed him in that hallway.  He simply needs to enter a room for my body to tighten and ache for the touch of his.  No matter how many men have come after him, he’s always been the standard that the others have been held to, and they’ve all failed spectacularly. 

I close my eyes and part my lips, ready to accept his mouth onto mine, but he tightens his hold in my hair and pulls my chin up higher, placing his lips on my jaw line instead of my mouth.  I let out a moan that would be loud and embarrassing if it were anybody else but Jackson’s lips on me and move one hand behind his head to hold him to me, and one hand up under his shirt to run my nails across his chest. 

He licks at me like a cat licking up cream, and it makes all my muscles turn to jelly. 

“God, I fucking love you.” He states hotly against my skin, and my body turns to jelly at the fierceness of his words.  Scooping me up with his hands placed firmly under my ass, he carries me up the stairs and into his bedroom, without his mouth ever breaking contact with my skin.

Dropping me onto the bed, he reaches over his head to pull his shirt up and off his body.  Why is it that only men take their shirts off that way?  And why is it so fucking sexy?  It takes mere seconds for him to remove the rest of his clothes, and I find myself slightly disappointed that he didn’t make a bigger show of it.

When he’s stripped and naked in all his glory, he stalks to the bed and leans down to resume kissing me, removing me off my clothes as he does so.  It’s been so long since I’ve been with a man like this, so long since I’ve been with Jackson like this, and just his close proximity is setting my body on fire.  I reach out and give his dick a few sure strokes, relishing in the hiss of the breath and the feel of him hard and strong in my hand.  When my clothes are at last joined with his on the floor, I crab crawl backwards onto the center of the king sized bed and leave myself open for his taking.  He spends several minutes on my breasts, working me into a lather over both, tweaking and pulling with both his lips and his teeth, then licks his way to my core.  I won’t last long, and he knows it.  Kissing my upper and inner thighs, he spreads my legs as wife as they’ll go and takes my core into his mouth.  I reach out, looking for something, anything to help anchor me to the here and now, and one hand lands on Jacksons head and the other fists into the sheets.  After a minute or two, when I’m panting like a dog in heat, he adds two fingers into his ministrations, and the feels of his fingers rubbing against my g=spot inside is enough to end me over the edge.

I call out his name as I orgasm, and he only slows down when my holding his head turns into shoving it away.  I need time to recover, but all I get is the time it takes for him to kiss his way back up my body.

When he’s lined up and ready, he stops and puts his hand on my chin, angling my face to make eye contact with him.

“Do you love me?” 

“More than life itself.”  And it’s true.  I love him so much it hurts. 

With that, he eases himself inside, only stopping when he bottoms out against me.  He holds himself there and kisses me deeply with our hips pushed flush together.  I can feel myself clenching around him, my body trying to pull him in deeper without any possible way of doing so.  When I think I can take it no more, when I must try to force him to move inside me, he starts to thrust.  Slowly and deeply at first, our basic desires soon kick in and we’re quickly back to our frantic pace in the kitchen.  Skin slapping against skin and the sounds of our moans and whispers the only sounds touching the air.  When I feel him close, he changes his weight so that it is resting on his forearm and reaching the other down between us, rubbing my clit with the sole goal and bringing me again with him inside me.  The pressure bursts inside my body, and I scream out his name as I wrap myself around him.  One two three four five and there, Jackson is spilling himself inside of me.  When we’ve both come down from our highs, he rolls off of me and off of the bed.  He leaves me for just a minute, returning momentarily with a wash cloth to clean me up.  Somewhere in the back of my head I realize that we just had sex without protection, but it’s Jackson, and I can’t really bring myself to worry too much.  I’ve never had sex with anyone but Jackson without a condom, Matthew included, and knowing him the way I do I feel comfortable enough about it.  The sweat coating my body is quickly turning chilly, and Jackson pulls me to him, covering him with the sheet and me with the sheet and the blanket both.  He places a sweet kiss on the top of my head, and I think I hear him say I love you, but I can’t tell for sure.  Within seconds, my eyes start to drift closed.

 

-

 

I only dozed for a few minutes I think when I come to, awake and settled into my new skin.  I’m still riding the afterglow, snuggled up on my side with my head in Jacksons shoulder.  Right now, at this very moment, I feel like I could stay like this forever.  But working with and living with and being in love with Jackson again is one thing.  Facing the consequences of those actions is another thing all together.  I’m not ready for the drama that will come with this.  I feel like I need to get a handle on re-establishing myself in the hospital as a Doctor and teacher before I confront the spectacle that Jackson and I going public with, with whatever this is, is going to create.

“I’m thinking, remember when we got married?  Well of course you do, but when we got married and kept it a secret.  Called it our secret marriage bubble?”

“Are you suggesting that we elope again?  Because I’m not sure my mother would allow either of us to live through that experience.  Yours either.  All future weddings must be big and preplanned.  Or at least with enough notice for them to be there.  I’m rather fond of eloping myself.  But we can give them a few days’ heads up next time I think.”

My pulse rate must double by the time he finished with his little spiel and I’m afraid he can feel it pounding through my rib cage and into his side.  I push up onto my elbow to try to get a better look at him.

“Weddings?  What?  Who’s talking about weddings?  You want to get married again?”  I feel like he’s always springing shit on me.  I still haven’t recovered from earlier tonight. I can feel his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. But his fingers never stop running through my hair. 

“I feel the same way I’ve always felt.  I don’t want to just date, I want to whole damn thing.”  I think that may be the exact same thing he told me on the side of the road after we ran away from wedding number one.

“I would have married you that very first time we thought you were pregnant if you hadn’t freaked out and pissed me off.  But we were young and stupid, if you can consider your early thirties young.  And seeing as surgeons never really leave the high school level of emotional maturity, I think you can.  That was my bad.  I screwed up there.”

“That’s not the way I remember it.  The way I remember it was me freaking out when I thought we were pregnant, me freaking out again when we realized I wasn’t and me completely insulting you with my vomit of words.”  He chuckles lightly and runs his hand up and down my back.

“You do have a tendency to speak before you think.  Like a lot.  But no.  That was my fault.  If you had known how I felt, If I had admitted it to myself, none of that would have ever happened.   I’ve made it a bad habit of keeping things to myself until something happens that forces it out of me.  And then, reasonably enough, you think I’m being forced into it.  Let’s not make that mistake again.”

I used to pray that Jackson would open up and just tell me what he was thinking.  Tell me what he was feeling.  Now I’m thinking I wish he would just shut up and keep it to himself a little more.  There is a LOT of information being tossed at me tonight.  The minute I think I’ve started to process something he spits out something new.

“It’s not enough that you’ve made me a divorcee and an adulteress, now you want to make me a bigamist too?”

“You’re not an adulteress.  I noticed you took the ring off within the past few days.  Call the lawyer in the morning, hell call right now and leave a message, send her an email.  Have her submit the papers tomorrow instead of Monday.  Then you can at least have that off of your conscious.  We can go shopping this weekend for some stuff for Ruby and you’ll have some sort of emergency visitation by the end of next week.”

“That easy huh?  And what’s Matthew going to say when the judge asks me where I’m living and I tell him that I immediately shacked up with my ex-husband?”  God, this is just like us.  Bickering minutes after having close to the best sex of my life.  Somehow, instead of upsetting me the thought just makes me happy.

“I don’t give a shit what Matthew says or thinks.  The judge will see that even though your husband _abandoned_ you in your time of need, your children will still be living in a stable environment with a 2 parent household.  Everything else we can work out later.  I don’t think this is where you were going with your original question though.” 

Oh.  Yea.  I’d completely forgotten about it actually, distracted with thoughts of once again calling Jackson my husband, then of custody battles and divorce court. 

“Yes well, my original point was that I think we should keep this to ourselves for a while.  It would be a little crass to start making out in on call rooms in front of Maggie while we’re working out everything there is to work out between us.  Seriously, you have the worst timing.  Just for once, I’d like to not leave a sea of damage in our wake.”

He starts to look angry, but deflates as fast as it came.  I don’t think he’s stopped touching me since I climbed into his arms in the kitchen, but now he pulls me back on top of him fully and runs his hands up and down my back.

“I know.  I know.  But something that feels this good can’t be wrong right?  And I’m tired of denying that this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.  You by my side, forever.  I’m not willing to risk another shooting, or car accident, or freak earth quake taking you from me.  I don’t care about hurt feelings or inconvenient timing.  I won’t be separated from you again, do you understand?”  I’m still confused about how quickly all of this is happening, but there’s no denying the passion behind his words.  I nod in agreement, unable to find my voice, and he places a quick kiss on my lips.

“So yes, I’ll try to keep it quiet.  For now.  But I can’t make any promises.  And I’m not going to apologize for loving you.  I’m past that, and you need to get past it too.  This is it and I’m not letting you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get these posted, so please excuse any grammar and spelling, messed up errors that you find. I'll go back over them tomorrow with a fine toothed comb.


	15. The reckoning, version 2, rated E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson and April try to come to terms with their new relationship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did 2 separate versions of this chapter. One copy, this copy, is rated E. Pure porn for your enjoyment. The other is rated M, slight smut but nothing to make you blush about. Read whichever floats your boat.

April –

 

I can’t tell whether he’s breaking my heart or putting it back together.  He starts out shaky, stopping and starting.  But by the end of his tale he sounds almost serene.  These are the facts, his voice says.  This is my truth, and my truth is that I love you.  There are tears dripping down my face, but I make no move to prevent or hide them.  I think back to that day with the accident.  Waking up to seeing him crying over me, holding my hand so tight it was almost painful.  How warm his hands were against my smaller one.  I’d been hearing him for a while I think, without really processing what was going on.  When I came too enough to realize what I was hearing, the anguish and tears laced through his words, I wanted nothing more than to pull him into my arms and make his pain go away.  I’ve always secretly thought that I woke up, not just because of everything my friends and family did to bring me back, but because I can’t be that close to Jackson and not respond to his words.  He told me to come back to him, and I did.  I’m embarrassed to admit that it wasn’t until much later that I even thought about Matthew.  If he’d told me then what he’s telling me now, our lives would be so much different today. 

When I wrap my hands around his face, the feel of his beard is both scratchy and soft in my palms, and I itch to run my fingers through it.  Trying not to kiss him right now would be like trying not to breathe, you can only hold out so long before it becomes impossible.  Better to succumb right away before you end up on the floor panting.  The passion and electricity that’s always between us is there, but this time it seems to be tempered with something else.  Our kiss is slow and deep, drinking from a well long covered but never emptied, and I think his arms around my back are the only thing keeping me from falling to pieces. 

When I feel the need to either separate or intensify the situation, I slip off of his lap and stand between his legs instead.  Standing while he’s sitting like this, we’re almost the same height, and I rest my forehead against his, trying to gather my thoughts. 

Everything I’d ever dreamt of hearing from him, and here he is, saying it all and more.  But it’s been years since I’ve had that dream.  And mistake or not, the truth of the matter is that I am married to another man.  I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do with this information.   It feels almost too little too late.  I really need some time to process what he’s saying.  To come to grips with what’s happening between us again.

“Jackson.  I, I don’t know what you want from me.”

He tightens his grip around my waist, trying to preemptively prevent me from running, I think.  One of the benefits and pitfalls I think of knowing a person as intimately as we know each other.  How’s a girl supposed to have a good old-fashioned freak out when the boy comes prepared to shut it down before it happens?  Instead, he simply says, “Everything, I want everything from you April.  But for tonight, I’ll be happy with you just not leaving.”

Finally giving into my desires, I run my finger nails gently through his beard.  I love the way his eyes close in pleasure at the sensation.  I read a paper once, about the psychology behind Touch Hunger. It’s not just sex, though it often manifests itself that way, but the human body craves touch, skin on skin contact.  Some people get so starved for it that they will accept inappropriate touching just to satisfy the craving.  Children given regular physical affection while growing up are proven to have lower aggression levels and higher test scores.  Regular physical contact from a person you love, from everything as simple as a hug and handholding, is proven to reduce your heart rate and blood pressure, your brain activity increases, and your stress levels reduce.  I wander if he’s been as hungry for my touch these past few years as I have been for his, but I think the obvious answer to that is yes.  It’s just going to take me some time to wrap my head around this.

“I already cancelled my hotel reservations.  This afternoon, almost as soon as you left my office.”  His answering smile is both smug and beautiful, and I can’t help but respond with a smile of my own.

“Thank you.  Although, I was thinking about our track record in hotels.  If you’d had tried to go, I would have just followed you there.”

He tightens his grip on my hips and pulls me in tight against him, placing gentle kisses on the parts of my hand and arm he can reach by simply moving his face.  I take my hands off of his face and move them to the back of his head and neck, raking my nails there the way I know he likes it, with more force and purpose to my motions.  His kisses move to my neck as well, and I let a little hmmmm escape from between my lips.

“Funny, I was just thinking about our track record in kitchens.”  And that is what I think finally breaks the dam.  His motions become tight and firm instead of soft and languid, and the intensity levels radiating from his person are enough to set my entire body on edge.

He stands up abruptly, the force of his motions pushing the barstool over onto its side.  Squatting slightly to wrap his hands around my thighs, he picks me up and places me on the counter top, all thoughts of our earlier food and drinks forgotten.

It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this.  Rough and with purpose.  My whole body is tingling and on fire.  He’s always known me better than I know myself.  He can read my body’s wants and needs better than I could ever dictate them to him with words.

He wraps his hand in my hair and pulls my head back to look at him.  The sting of the force of his actions makes my toes curl, and the eye contact that he gives me is more intimate than the actual act of sex, and I feel it down to my core.  The tension is coiling in my belly as if he’s been rubbing on my clit for hours rather than just looking me in the eye.

I feel like I’m drunk, gloriously loose, even though I’ve barely had a drop of alcohol.  It’s purely my bodies reaction to his.  It’s been this way between us since the first time I kissed him in that hallway.  He simply needs to enter a room for my body to tighten and ache for the touch of his.  No matter how many men have come after him, he’s always been the standard that the others have been held to, and they’ve all failed spectacularly. 

I close my eyes and part my lips, ready to accept his mouth onto mine, but he tightens his hold in my hair and pulls my chin up higher, placing his lips on my jaw line instead of my mouth.  I let out a moan that would be loud and embarrassing if it were anybody else but Jackson’s lips on me and move one hand behind his head to hold him to me, and one hand up under his shirt to run my nails across his chest. 

He licks at me like a cat licking up cream, and it makes all my muscles turn to jelly. 

“God, I fucking love you.” He states hotly against my skin, and my body turns to jelly at the fierceness of his words.  Scooping me up with his hands placed firmly under my ass, he carries me up the stairs and into his bedroom, without his mouth ever breaking contact with my skin.

Dropping me onto the bed, he reaches over his head to pull his shirt up and off his body.  Why is it that only men take their shirts off that way?  And why is it so fucking sexy?

Crawling to the edge of the bed, I sit back on my heels and pull Jackson closer to the bed by his belt buckle.  Undoing the clasp, I pull it out of his pants and snap it in my hands.  His body reacts as if I had hit him with it, pulling tight and strong, and it’s reaction turns me on a notch higher.

Unbuttoning the snap and pulling down the zipper, I help push his pants to his knees and watch with anticipation as he bends over to pull them off of his feet, one leg after the other, never breaking eye contact from me.  He should have just taken his boxer briefs off with his pants, but I know why he kept them on.  He knows he looks good, and he’s getting off on my getting off on his body.  The tightness of the material forms to his rock hard ass and thighs and cock just enough to tease me with what I’m not seeing, and I let out a little whine and reach for him.  With a cocky ass smile I’m looking forward to removing from his face, he pushes the last bit of clothing down his legs and drops them on the pile with his pants.  I tug my own shirt up and over my head, dropping it who knows where, and reach for him with both hands.   With one hand on his hip and one hand on his dick, I pull him back to the edge of the bed then wrap my mouth around his cock.  The hiss of his breath as he draws air into his lungs sends a pure shot of lust to my core, and I move my hand from his cock to his balls and take him back as deep as I can, hollowing my lips to make it as tight as possible as I pull myself back off.

I know this man better than anyone, in every way possible.  Unlatching from his cock, I push it up towards his belly then bend my head down to take his balls into my mouth, slowly stroking his dick.  After lathering each for a minute, I flatten my tongue against the bottom and lick him from his base to the tip.  From the ‘Jesus Christ’ that he moans out like a prayer, I feel confident that that’s the first time he’s felt that particular simulation since I last did it to him.  It only takes a few minutes before he’s wound up tighter than a cork screw.  I always had a sense of pride with the reactions I could get out of Jackson.  Seeing as he was my first, I didn’t have any point of reference before, but now that I have a little more experience under my belt, I know for a fact that what Jackson and I share is something special.  I still don’t know if it’s him or me or some combination thereof, but I know that I never had this same sense of satisfaction brining a man to his peak with anybody else.  The more I suck his dick, run my finger nails up and down his inner thighs and play with his balls, the hornier I get, and the hornier I get, the wilder I become sucking his dick.  It’s a vicious circle and I love it.  I can feel his balls pull up high, and his cock is swollen so tight I can feel the tension pulled tight against his skin.  Just as I open my mouth to take him back and swallow him down, he wraps his hand into my hair and pulls me back.

“No.”

Bewildered I ask, “Why not?”

“Because the next time I cum, it’s going to be inside of you.”

Holy Shit.  He wraps one arm around my middle and hauls me up off of the bed, placing me on my feet on the floor.  With both of his hands on my face, he kisses me deeply, licking the inside of my mouth and pulling off of me just enough to take my lower lip in his teeth and tug.  In a normal situation it would be painful.  But I’m hyped up so high that the stimulation is almost enough to bring me to orgasm just like that.  With the hands born of years of surgical training, he reaches behind me with one hand and unclasps my bra, pulling it off with a slow seduction that differs from the intense ferocity of his mouth on me. 

I arch up into him, expecting him to take each of my breasts in his gloriously bug hands, but instead he just skims over them with the lightest of touches, bringing goosebumps to my flesh and making my nipples pucker so hard they ache and brings his hands down to my pants to unbutton my jeans and start to push them down my hips.  I try to help him my lifting my legs and pushing them down with my feet, but I’m the first to admit my coordination is less than perfect at the moment.  I let out a little moan of frustration, and Jackson laughs, taking pity on me and lifting me up again, using one arm to hold me up and the other to pull my pants all the way off and leaving them in a puddle on the floor.  Once again, I’m amazed at the strength contained into his lithe form.  Finally, when I’m wearing nothing but my panties, he turns his attention to my breasts, and I can do nothing but moan out my appreciation and thanks, placing one hand on his shoulder and one on the back of his head, to steady myself rather than hold him there.  Sucking on of my nipples between his lips, he takes as much of my breast into his mouth as he can, lavishing it with his tongue and lips, again pulling it taught between his teeth when he pulls away.  Palming the breast, he just left to ease the sting, he repeats the process with the other one.  I’m not sure where all the biting and hair pulling has come from all of a sudden.  I mean sure, it’s not something we’d ever shied away from before.  There wasn’t anything we ever shied away from before.  But there seems to be a specific ferocity to us tonight, with the phrase marking our territory coming to mind.  And I know, without the need to look into a mirror, that we will indeed be marked tomorrow for all to see.  Claimed, once and for all.

With one swift move, he drops to his knees in front of me and yanks my panties down to my ankles.  One push is all it takes to knock me backwards onto the bed, and he walks on his knees the few feet to the edge of the bed, taking each of my ankles in the hand and placing them where he wants on the edge of the mattress and grabbing me by the thighs and pulling my ass so that it is almost even with my feet.  Raising up on my elbows, I stare down at him and watch as he gives me a cocks ass grin and places his hands on my upper inner thighs pushing them open as far as they’ll go, fingers close enough to tease my sex but not close enough that I can do anything about it in the open and helpless position he has me in. 

“I never said anything about you cuming when I’m inside you, did I?”  He has complete control with me in this position, and we both know it.  That’s ok.  It won’t take long, and we both know that too.

Dipping his head, all the while still maintaining eye contact, he reaches my clit and licks a strip all the way from my ass crack up to it tip, slowly flicking his tongue over that precious bundle of nerves at the top. 

“Oh, sweet Jesus” I practically scream out into the silence of the apartment, bunching my hands into the sheets and throwing my head back and forth on the bed, desperately looking for something to anchor me.  I feel him laugh with pleasure with his lips wrapped around my clit, and the vibrations almost send me over the edge.

“Not yet princess” he says and pulls away from my core to suck small hickies into my thighs. 

“I hate you” I whimper out, but that only seems to fuel his satisfaction with himself.  I try to move, to bring myself closer to the friction and force that I desperately need to climax, but he has me in such a position that it is almost impossible for me to do more than gyrate in place.  I’m spread open and destitute, completely at his mercy.  I hear him suck something into his mouth and push myself up enough to see he’s sucking on two of his own fingers.  Pointless, since it will probably look like I’ve wet the bed by the time he gets me off of this spot, but fucking hot none the less.  Slowly, agonizingly torturously slowly, he pushes the two fingers into my center.

“Jaaaackson!”  And this time I am slightly embarrassed by the need laced through my voice.  Without any further ado, he up’s the pace of his fingers, now flicking them back and forth inside me as well.  He takes his other hand off of my thigh and places it onto the tip of my click, rubbing with one purpose in mind, then places his mouth onto the curve where my thigh turns into pussy and sucks, pushing his teeth just hard enough to leave a mark.  Just like that I’m cumming so hard I’m pretty sure I black out for a few minutes.  By the time I realized what’s happened, I’m in the middle of the bed and Jackson is kissing me like he needs it to live, lining himself up and slipping surely and slowly into my core.  I hadn’t even begun to come down off of my first orgasm when the second starts to tear through me, and I try to plead for mercy into Jacksons mouth, wrapping my legs and arms tight around him, trying to use his body to wave out the ride.  He doesn’t take pity on me, just speeds up his pace and brings us both home.  It takes less than a minute for his pace to speed up and falter, as he moans out my name.  I feel him tighten and release in my arms, spilling his seed inside me just like he promised to.  I hold him to me until my limbs give out the strength to continue doing so and then they slide uselessly to my side.  He leaves me for just a minute, returning momentarily with a wash cloth to clean me up.  Somewhere in the back of my head I realize that we just had sex without protection, but it’s Jackson, and I can’t really bring myself to worry too much.  I’ve never had sex with anyone but Jackson without a condom, Matthew included, and knowing him the way I do I feel comfortable enough about it.  The sweat coating my body is quickly turning chilly, and Jackson pulls me to him, covering him with the sheet and me with the sheet and the blanket both.  He places a sweet kiss on the top of my head, and I think I hear him say I love you, but I can’t tell for sure.  Within seconds, my eyes start to drift closed.

 

-

 

I only dozed for a few minutes I think when I come to, awake and settled into my new skin.  I’m still riding the afterglow, snuggled up on my side with my head in Jacksons shoulder.  Right now, at this very moment, I feel like I could stay like this forever.  But working with and living with and being in love with Jackson again is one thing.  Facing the consequences of those actions is another thing all together.  I’m not ready for the drama that will come with this.  I feel like I need to get a handle on re-establishing myself in the hospital as a Doctor and teacher before I confront the spectacle that Jackson and I going public with, with whatever this is, is going to create.

“I’m thinking, remember when we got married?  Well of course you do, but when we got married and kept it a secret.  Called it our secret marriage bubble?”

“Are you suggesting that we elope again?  Because I’m not sure my mother would allow either of us to live through that experience.  Yours either.  All future weddings must be big and preplanned.  Or at least with enough notice for them to be there.  I’m rather fond of eloping myself.  But we can give them a few days’ heads up next time I think.”

My pulse rate must double by the time he finished with his little spiel and I’m afraid he can feel it pounding through my rib cage and into his side.  I push up onto my elbow to try to get a better look at him.

“Weddings?  What?  Who’s talking about weddings?  You want to get married again?”  I feel like he’s always springing shit on me.  I still haven’t recovered from earlier tonight. I can feel his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. But his fingers never stop running through my hair. 

“I feel the same way I’ve always felt.  I don’t want to just date, I want to whole damn thing.”  I think that may be the exact same thing he told me on the side of the road after we ran away from wedding number one.

“I would have married you that very first time we thought you were pregnant if you hadn’t freaked out and pissed me off.  But we were young and stupid, if you can consider your early thirties young.  And seeing as surgeons never really leave the high school level of emotional maturity, I think you can.  That was my bad.  I screwed up there.”

“That’s not the way I remember it.  The way I remember it was me freaking out when I thought we were pregnant, me freaking out again when we realized I wasn’t and me completely insulting you with my vomit of words.”  He chuckles lightly and runs his hand up and down my back.

“You do have a tendency to speak before you think.  Like a lot.  But no.  That was my fault.  If you had known how I felt, If I had admitted it to myself, none of that would have ever happened.   I’ve made it a bad habit of keeping things to myself until something happens that forces it out of me.  And then, reasonably enough, you think I’m being forced into it.  Let’s not make that mistake again.”

I used to pray that Jackson would open up and just tell me what he was thinking.  Tell me what he was feeling.  Now I’m thinking I wish he would just shut up and keep it to himself a little more.  There is a LOT of information being tossed at me tonight.  The minute I think I’ve started to process something he spits out something new.

“It’s not enough that you’ve made me a divorcee and an adulteress, now you want to make me a bigamist too?”

“You’re not an adulteress.  I noticed you took the ring off within the past few days.  Call the lawyer in the morning, hell call right now and leave a message, send her an email.  Have her submit the papers tomorrow instead of Monday.  Then you can at least have that off of your conscious.  We can go shopping this weekend for some stuff for Ruby and you’ll have some sort of emergency visitation by the end of next week.”

“That easy huh?  And what’s Matthew going to say when the judge asks me where I’m living, and I tell him that I immediately shacked up with my ex-husband?”  God, this is just like us.  Bickering minutes after having close to the best sex of my life.  Somehow, instead of upsetting me the thought just makes me happy.

“I don’t give a shit what Matthew says or thinks.  The judge will see that even though your husband _abandoned_ you in your time of need, your children will still be living in a stable environment with a 2 parent household.  Everything else we can work out later.  I don’t think this is where you were going with your original question though.” 

Oh.  Yea.  I’d completely forgotten about it actually, distracted with thoughts of once again calling Jackson my husband, then of custody battles and divorce court. 

“Yes well, my original point was that I think we should keep this to ourselves for a while.  It would be a little crass to start making out in on call rooms in front of Maggie while we’re working out everything there is to work out between us.  Seriously, you have the worst timing.  Just for once, I’d like to not leave a sea of damage in our wake.”

He starts to look angry but deflates as fast as it came.  I don’t think he’s stopped touching me since I climbed into his arms in the kitchen, but now he pulls me back on top of him fully and runs his hands up and down my back.

“I know.  I know.  But something that feels this good can’t be wrong right?  And I’m tired of denying that this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.  You by my side, forever.  I’m not willing to risk another shooting, or car accident, or freak earth quake taking you from me.  I don’t care about hurt feelings or inconvenient timing.  I won’t be separated from you again, do you understand?”  I’m still confused about how quickly all of this is happening, but there’s no denying the passion behind his words.  I nod in agreement, unable to find my voice, and he places a quick kiss on my lips.

“So yes, I’ll try to keep it quiet.  For now.  But I can’t make any promises.  And I’m not going to apologize for loving you.  I’m past that, and you need to get past it too.  This is it and I’m not letting you go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get these posted, so they didn't have the type of grammar and spell checking that they normally have, meaning I only read them thru 10 times instead of 30 lol. I'll go over them again slower and with purpose tomorrow when I have the time.


	16. Mothers and Babies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught lol!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short and sweet chapter to break up some of the angst.

 

April –

I wake up first, no surprise there. I didn’t have my alarm set as I didn’t have to get Harriet up and ready for school, but it’s still fairly early. I can tell from the amount of sun coming in thru the windows that it’s later than I normally get up, but not so late that we’ve missed out morning appointments. I don’t think Jackson has to be at work until 9 today anyways. The feel of his weight in the bed next to me brings me a sense of contentment that I wasn’t expecting, and I turn in the bed to get a better look at him. He’s sleeping on his stomach with his back bare and the sheet pooled at the top of his ass. He’s always been a hot sleeper. At first it took me a while to get used to the heat that radiated off of him when we slept side by side, and then at the end I couldn’t sleep well without it.

If he wants to get his run in before work this morning he better wake up soon.

I run my fingers down his spine, gently, and am rewarded when a shiver runs through his body. I wait a few moments to see if I’m going to get anything else out of him but his breathing doesn’t even hitch a beat, and when I don’t, I try again. This time, as gently as I can as to not wake him up from my movements from the bed, I ease myself onto my hands and knees and move the few spaces between us so that I am hovering over his body. Softly peeling the sheet away so that his entire backside is exposed, I start at the base of his head and kiss and lick all the way down to the top of his thighs.  Somewhere around his upper back I felt his breathing change and his body start to move minutely, but he managed to keep himself still enough to pretend to still be sleeping so I kept working my way down his body. As I’m pulling back to sit back on my heels, he flips over and stretches, smiling wide and proving to me that all of him is awake and happy to see me.

He pulls me to him and kisses me deeply, then reaches down between my legs to feel that I’m as awake as he is. Without any further comment he puts a hand on either side of my waist and positions me on top of him. The feel of him entering me from this angle is exquisite, and I feel his moan echo mine. Starting out slow, I rock forward until he’s at the end, then slowly sink back down again.

“I found them Grammie, they’re in Daddy’s room!” I whip my head around just in time to see a little form running out of the door in the other direction, presumably the stairs.

I freeze. So this is what this feels like. At last I’ve reached that pinnacle of parenting that all parents dread, your kids walking in on you having sex.

Harriet wasn’t moving around by herself the last time Jackson and I were having sex together, and Matthew and I didn’t have sex often enough when she was for us getting caught to ever be a worry.

I’m debating about whether to be more amused or horrified when Jackson’s reaction kicks in. Without ceremony he flings me off of him and tosses the sheet on top of me. Spluttering at the about change in positions, I untangle myself from the sheet to see Jackson rocketing out of bed, reaching for his jeans so fast that he tumbles over his own feet trying to pick them up off of the floor. He looks like he’s playing some warped game of twister on the floor by himself.

“Jackson what?” I can’t help but giggle at his reaction. It’s a little extreme. It’s not like she hasn’t seen us in stages of undress before. Sure, not together, but I think she’s going to have to get used to it sooner rather than later if we’re really doing this.

“My mom April! If Harriet’s here that means so is my mother!” He gets his legs into his jeans and jumps up to his feet to finish tugging them over his ass. I can’t help but admire how great he looks with the jeans riding so low on his hips when I register what he’s just said.

And then it’s horrified for the win. “Oh My God!” Before I have a chance to gather my wits about me, Catherine stops in the doorway with Hattie’s hand in hers. Jackson’s hands are still on his buttons when he looks up at this mother and our daughter standing in his bedroom doorway taking in the scene in front of them. I just manage to get the sheet pulled up enough so that I don’t feel 100% exposed before she appears.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Catherine asks in her best mother superior tone.

“Mommy and Daddy were kissing Grammie.” I’ve never been more mortified in my entire life. I can feel myself blushing so bad my skin probably matches my hair color. My eyes close and I pray for God to cause and earthquake or a tornado, anything to get me out of this situation. Jackson makes a choking sound and looks like a kid who just got caught doing something naughty. Very very naughty. Catherine looks down at Harriet and pops her on the nose, bringing a peal of happy laughter from our daughter. I’d love to admire the close relationship they share, _if_ I wasn’t naked with just fucked hair while I did it.

“Is that so sweetie? Harriet dear, go get your show and tell project. Grammie will meet you downstairs.”

“Ok” she says and goes running off down the hallway.

Catherine turns her attention back to us, and says in that cool boardroom voice of hers, “I could pretend to be shocked, but I think we’re all a little too old to play that game, don’t you?

I’ve seen her exact facial expression so many times on Jacksons face, and even a few times on Harriet’s, and it threatens to set off my giggles again. It’s the look of someone who’s caught you eating the cookies you swore you didn’t have but in reality where hidden in the back of your closet. Vindication and irritation all rolled into one, and you can see the wheels turning in the back of their brains, calculating how they can turn this situation to their best advantage.

“Mom”

“Don’t mom me Jackson. Next time you want to use me to get a little action, warn me ahead of time so that I don’t bring Harriet back in the middle of it please. It’s a little undignified, don’t you think son?”

And now I have to use both hands to cover my mouth, because as Jackson’s exterior deteriorates in embarrassment and horror, Catherine’s just becomes more and more smug. Her eyes flick to me briefly and I swear I see her wink at me. She’s enjoying this I realize, and the giggles are no longer being kept hidden behind my hands. If looks could kill, the look Jackson shoots in my direction would vaporize me on the spot. It takes all of my will power but I manage to swallow back my amusement. Kind of. Now I sound like someone who’s choking on their dinner instead of someone who’s laughing at their boyfriend? Lover? Ex-Husband? Shit.

“Please tell me you both took care of your business before you jumped back into bed together.”

“That’s really none of your concern mother. Go Away!”   He knows better than to take that tone with her. She’s just going to dig her heels in. Will I always be playing peace keeper between them? That thought doesn’t make me feel as tired as it once would have. Catherine could’ve waited until we’re more put together to have this conversation, true, but then I realize it’s not very often you catch The Jackson Avery off of his game. She’ll want to hold the position of power for as long as she can. But I guess it’s my duty to try to even the playing field.  

Using my mommy voice I say, “Yes, of course Catherine. The divorce papers will be submitted today, and Jackson ended things with Maggie. We would never purposefully do anything to hurt anyone.” At that she only raises her eyebrow at me, and I mumble out “again.”

With his mother’s attention momentarily turned to me, Jackson has seemingly recovered his equilibrium, because he stands up to his full height and shoots dirty looks between the both of us. It’s got to be hard to be authoritative while being caught shirtless with your pants around your ankles, literally, but Jackson manages to pull it off, and seeing him standing there tall and strong trips something inside of me. I find myself hoping that he puts an end to this sooner rather than later so that we can pick up where we left off.

“What are you even doing here mom?”

“Harriet needed to get something for school. Something about show and tell project. You made her a doctor’s kit?”

“Oh yea,” I pipe up from the bed, sitting up now and scooting to the edge of the bed with the sheet still wrapped around my chest. My hair falls all over my face with the motion, and I almost lose the sheet trying to push it all out of my eyes. “It’s really cute. They’re doing show and tell this week about what they want to be when they grow up, and of course she said she wanted to be a surgeon. We put together an adorable, but practical, little Dr.’s bag for her to take with her with a mixture of her toy doctor items and stuff from the hospital. I better go see if she needs help. Jackson, take mom downstairs and start the coffee would you? I need to get dressed.”

There is a cascade of emotions flittering across his face, and I wonder if his mother can read him as easily as I can. Irritation and desperation, lust and disappointment and finally resignation, as he walks over to his dresser and pulls a muscle shirt out and pulls it over his head.

“I’ll be there in a minute mom.” I can hear the dismissal in his voice as easily as she can, and spare a moment to wonder how she’ll take it before he’s in front of me. “You look beautifully wild like that,” he tells me leaning down to give me a quick kiss. At least I was expecting it to be quick. Instead, he puts both of his hands on my face and in my hair respectively and kisses me so thoroughly that I’m practically panting before he finally pulls away. Seeing Catherine’s back, I know that she saw at least some of that and I feel the blood rush up my chest and shoulders to tinge my face red. If this keeps up I’m going to permanently be tinged this way.

“Don’t leave me alone with her for too long,” he says as he goes to follow his mother out of the room, and I run my hands down my neck to try to pull my raging hormones back into my body. If that was the closing salvo in this morning’s battle for dominance with his mother, it’s hard to say who won.

 

I reach the top of the stairs, fully dressed and with Harriet preceding me, just in time to over hear the end of their conversation.

“I love her mom.” The sincere tenderness in his voice makes my heart break. He loves me. We can overcome everything else as long as he loves me.

“I know you do son, just don’t screw it up this time.” They enter my line sight in time for me to see their hug, and it melts me just a little bit more. I don’t know what we’re going to do when we finally lose her, but now’s not the time to worry about that.

“April,” my name coming out of her lips makes me jump, and I can’t tell if she knew I would be there or just assumed since Harriet showed up holding her doctors bag. “I’m on the plane back to Boston on Sunday. We’re having a family dinner Saturday night and I expect you to be there. And before you ask, no I don’t know if Maggie will be there but I’m sure we can all be adults if she is.”

“Of course I’ll be there.” I say automatically. I’m not looking forward to being face to face with Maggie that soon, but I’ll have to see her at the hospital anyways. Better to get it out of the way in an easier setting I suppose.

“Good. Come on Harriet, let’s get you to school.” After giving Jackson and I both a hug and a kiss, Harriet takes her hand and starts talking at a mile a minute in the way that children do, telling her grandmother about everything in her kit and about what it means to be a surgeon. I hear Catherin ask if Hattie knows what an urologist is as Jackson shuts the door behind them.

Jackson turns to face me, and the tension in the room immediately skyrockets to an 11. His posture and facial expression set off every warning bell I have, and I slowly start to back away towards to stairs.

“Where were we?’ He asks, if that low seductive voice he has, and before I can even respond he bum rushes me at the bottom of the stairs. My laughter bellows out across the living room as he throws me over his shoulder fireman style and takes the stairs two at a time.

 

 


	17. mothers and babies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jo has her baby!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SO SORRY for how long it has been since I posted a chapter. A lot has happened in my real life, including releasing a book on Amazon!! Still based off of everyone's favorite hospital :) Just a Dream is on sale now!!!
> 
> Book 1 in the series came out in July, book two is due out in August, and Book 3 should be out October and is loosely based on Merlex. Very very loosely.
> 
> If you have a few moments, PLEASE take the time to click on my link and show your support!
> 
> https://smarturl.it/amandafayebooks  
> https://www.facebook.com/motherof4dragonsbooks/  
> https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46122325-just-a-dream?from_search=true

Jackson

I’m sitting at my desk, daydreaming about last night when I should be doing research for next week’s facial reconstruction. A fourteen-year-old girl in an MVC had a piece of glass cut her deeply from her lower check to almost the corner of her eye. She was stitched up poorly, and it healed even worse. We didn’t initially treat her here; otherwise, she wouldn’t need reconstructive surgery, to begin with. Our surgeons would never treat a facial lac with such disregard. Sloane made sure of that. She’s seventeen now, and her family raised the money for the surgery as a graduation present. I won’t be able to make it disappear entirely, but by the time she starts college in a year, she’ll have the confidence of a movie star.

“Dude!” Alex comes barging into my office, smacking the door so hard it rebounds and almost hits him in the face as he comes storming inside pointing his finger at me.

“Next time you talk to your wife, tell her to stay the hell away from mine! This morning was all her damn fault!”

“Good morning to you too, Alex. I don’t currently have a wife, but I’m working on it. However, I’m assuming you’re talking about April. Whatever has your panties in a twist, go talk to her yourself. She’s been back to work for weeks now.”

“Yes, April! Jo had the baby this morning.” At that, his whole demeanor changes, and I jump out of my seat to pull him into a hug.

“What?! Congrats, man!” He hugs me back hard but brief and pulls his phone out of his pocket to show me a picture. His smile is genuine and rare, and you can see the pride radiating off of him.

“Isabella Merida Karev. 8lbs, 10 ounces. 21 inches. We wanted to name her after Meredith, but she tried to shut us down, so we improvised.”

“She’s gorgeous man. It was about time too. What was she, a week overdue? What room are they in? When can we go to visit? What were her Apgar’s?”

“Apgar’s were good, eight and nine. They’re going to stay here tonight, and then we’ll probably have everybody over to the house on Sunday. They’re in room 402 by the nursery, no thanks to April!” His grumpiness is back, and he’s flipping between emotions so fast it’s giving me a headache.

“What does April have to do with any of this? She was with me all morning.” It takes me a second to realize how that can be construed, and any and all assumptions he jumps to would be one hundred percent correct after all. He scoffs at me, and I know that any delusions that April had about keeping us a secret were just that. Delusions.

“Yeah, I bet she was. But she and Mer have been talking to Jo about childbirth and all of that junk. Then this morning I woke up to see Jo in some weird squat holding onto the kitchen counter when she tells me that her water broke hours ago, and women have been having babies for millennia, and she doesn’t need to go to the hospital yet. As a matter of fact, home births are still the preferred way to have children all over the world.

“Even though I haven’t been able to stop her from going to the hospital every other damn day of her damn pregnancy no matter how much I beg her to take it easy. So, I called Mer and had her try to talk some sense into Jo. By the time we finally got her to come around, Meredith and I delivered the damn baby in the hospital parking lot! Mer called Deluca from the car, and he and a damn intern had to meet us out there with a delivery kit and a gurney.”

That’s a lot of damns. I can’t help but smile because he’s right; that does have April written all over it. It makes me think about what happened to April and Harriet during their accidental home birth, but those thoughts have no place here today. Jo and their baby are okay, and that’s all that matters.

Pulling out my phone, I call April. “I’ll tell her right now,” I say to Alex, and watch as he crosses his arms across his chest and waits for me to rip April a new one.

“Hey, Guess What?! Jo had the baby this morning. Yeah, it is exciting. They’re both doing great. eight and nine, Isabella Merida. She’s ready for visitors whenever you are. Alex says she really took your talks about the benefits of natural childbirth to heart. Yeah, no pain meds whatsoever.”  The disgusted growl he gives me is worth the cold shoulder I’ll receive for the next few days and I don’t bother trying to hold back the belly laugh that escapes me as he turns around and slams his way back out of my office.

 

 

A few hours later April and I head up together to visit with mom and baby. Alex was supposed to start paternity leave the second the baby was born but being a surgeon is more ingrained then we’d like to admit sometimes. My mother was right, it’s a calling, and that’s not something that’s easily turned off, new baby or not.

Little Bella is sleeping like a champ, trying to recover from her dramatic entrance, so Alex went to handle an emergent appendectomy in a six-year-old while he still had a full night’s sleep in his system. It’s going to be a long time before he has another one of those under his belt.

Jo is glowing. Absolutely radiant. She never bothered to put on a hospital gown, just threw on a nursing shirt and what I can only assume is a pair of pajama bottoms under her blanket. I recognize the clips at the tops of the straps for it to pop open. Not just easy access for baby. Bad Jackson. Looking at it, it may even be one of April’s nursing shirts from when our baby was still nursing. Thinking about April nursing our child, singing her a lullaby while rocking in the glider gives me an ache of longing deep in my chest.

Rubbing my hand over my breastbone, as if that could possibly ease the pain that planted itself there, I turn my attention back to the new mother and baby.

Instead of being in the plastic nursery sleeper like she’s supposed to be, Bella is asleep on the bed between her mother’s spread out legs. I can’t judge her skin tone, because it will be several weeks until it settles into the shade it’s going to be permanently, but she has a full head of perfectly black hair. Without seeing her eyes, which are closed sweetly on her face, she almost looks like princess Jasmine.

I hang back and watch while April goes to hug Jo and talk about the excitement of the morning and the amusing reaction of Alex when he found her in labor in the kitchen.

Or the ladies thought it was amusing anyway. If I were an idiot, I’d tell them that I rather agree with Alex this time. But I’m not an idiot.

“I’ve told him multiple times today, delivering the baby in the parking lot was all his fault. If we’d have stayed at home, we would have been just fine. It’s not as if we’re not both doctors after all. He’s delivered plenty of babies, and he’s a pediatrician joder.

And now he wants to keep me here overnight when I could be home in my own bed resting my privates where it’s comfortable.”

Spanish and French are similar, and I think she just called him a fuck face? No. That can’t be right.

“Yeah, but he’s a man Jo. They only way they feel useful in these situations is if we let them think that we need them. Stay here, let him think that he’s made an important decision and helped ease your load. You’ve been married long enough I’m sure you’ve learned to placate his neediness without letting it get in your way.”

At this, I have to speak up.

“Excuse me?”

The girls look at each other and burst into giggles, sharing expressions that read incredibly like ‘I told you so’.

Isabella starts to squirm at the commotion, and April asks permission to pick up the baby. With the ease of years of practice, she picks Bella up into her arms and settles herself into the recliner next to the bed.

Automatically she starts rocking side to side and bouncing the baby gently up and down in her arms. When she starts to sing, it’s the lullaby that my mother taught her before Harriet was born, Au clair de la lune.

 

_Au clair de la lune,_

_Mon ami Pierrot,_

_Prête-moi ta plume_

_Pour écrire un mot._

_Ma chandelle est morte,_

_Je n'ai plus de feu,_

_Ouvre-moi ta porte,_

_Pour l'amour de Dieu._

“I can hear you thinking.”

It takes me a minute to realize she’s speaking to me. The ache in my chest has gotten worse watching April with the new baby, and I may have been staring harder than strictly called for.

I turn my attention from April in the chair to Jo leaning back in the bed.

“She’s a beautiful baby. And you are positively glowing. Congratulations Jo. You’re right. Alex overreacted this morning.”

She nods her head regally at me in gracious acceptance of my comment, and it makes me chuckle under my breath.

“Is your baby lust kicking in Jackson?”

Baby lust. Not just any baby. Our baby.

“Nah, my days of midnight changes are over, unfortunately. I may be persuaded to babysit on occasion, though.”

Probably more than occasionally. We’re a tight group. We share babysitters just like we share children. I can think of multiple occasions kids have been swapped back and forth when emergent patients needed attention. Sometimes you go into surgery having left your kid with one person and get out to see that now they are with someone completely different. We have a great family here.

Jo passes a knowing look between April and me before she speaks again.

“Oh, I don’t know Jackson. Never say never. The lord works in mysterious ways and all that.”

I don’t really have a response to that, so I hmm and nod and continue to watch April sing to Isabella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A variant of this story, with fairly significant changes will be available on amazon on August. 1st. Please check out the cover and let me know if you like it!
> 
> https://smarturl.it/amandafayebooks  
> https://www.facebook.com/motherof4dragonsbooks/  
> https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/46122325-just-a-dream?from_search=true


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